Code Blue (completely redone)
by i am a good fighter
Summary: Epilogue up, and complete! (Please ignore incorrect wordcount, it's less than half of what it shows) Bubbles falls seriously ill, and the actions of a ruthless TV reporter covering the story lead to disaster. Very intense hospital drama.
1. Default Chapter

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  
  
  
  


**-1-**

It started with the headaches.

Blossom had noticed that for the last week, Bubbles would occasionally massage her temples or her forehead. She didn't do it all the time, just a few times in school or when they were home watching TV. It was never when Bubbles was being active, only when she was sitting down and concentrating, so Blossom thought maybe her sister was having trouble with her eyes again. But whatever it was, Bubbles didn't seem to be aware of it. 

That Thursday morning, while their kindergarten teacher, Ms.Keane, was standing at the blackboard, Blossom heard Buttercup whisper, "Hey, Bubbles, you OK?"

When she turned to look, Bubbles was rubbing the side of her head. "Huh? Oh, sure!"

"You got a headache?" Buttercup asked quietly.

"Not really. It just hurts a little, but it always goes away."

"_So, she HAS been aware of it!_" Blossom thought. "Bubbles, are your eyes bothering you again? Maybe you should sit near the front."

"Time to get out the specs!" Buttercup grinned.

"Nuh, uh! I'm not wearing those stupid glasses again!"

"Girls!"

They whipped their heads to see their teacher and most of the class watching them.

"Something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" Ms. Keane asked, raising an eyebrow, hands on her hips. 

"Bubbles has a headache, Ms. Keane. I think it's her eyes again." Blossom said.

"It is not!" Bubbles insisted, not realizing she was starting to rub her forehead again.

"Bubbles, I think you should go to the school nurse for an aspirin."

"Make sure it's baby aspirin!" Buttercup laughed. Mitch Mitchellson and some of the other kids joined in. Blossom frowned at her green-eyed sister.

"I'm FINE!" Bubbles shouted, her face turning red. Suddenly, she winced with pain and grabbed her head with both hands. Her sisters stood up, looking very worried.

"No, you're not fine." Ms. Keane said, rushing over and taking Bubbles by an arm. "Blossom, take her down to the nurse's office."

"I think I should take her home and let the Professor look at her."

"Yes, Blossom, that's a good idea."

Whatever it was had passed, and Bubbles took her hands away.

"But, I'm okay, really!" she protested. "I don' wanna go home!"

Protesting did no good. Soon, Blossom had one arm around Bubbles' shoulders and they were headed out the door. 

A perturbed Buttercup watched them leave. "Ms. Keane, I think I should go with them!"

"Why, Buttercup? Are you getting a headache, too?"

"Maybe a little." she lied.

"Then go ask the nurse for some baby aspirin." her teacher smirked. She crossed her arms and scowled at everyone who laughed at her, but soon, Ms. Keane got everyone's attention back on the next lesson. 

* * * * * * *

Buttercup grew concerned as the day went on. She expected the professor to send Blossom back, but her sister never returned. When the bell finally rang, she sped home and entered through her bedroom window. She was shocked to see Blossom lying on their bed, looking distraught.

"She's sick, Buttercup. She got another real bad one on the way home and I got her into the bathroom just in time."

"Eeewwwwww!" 

"Yeah. Professor's still looking at her. It sounds like the flu."

" I think that's all it is, Blossom." 

Professor Utonium walked in, carrying a pale-looking Bubbles, curled up in his arms.

"I'm outta here!" Buttercup made a beeline for the door, but the professor held up his hand.

"Whatever it is, Buttercup, you've already been exposed to it. There's no harm in sleeping in the same room."

"There is if she pukes on me!"

"Buttercup, that's MEAN!" Blossom exclaimed.

Bubbles' look of sadness grew sadder and she whimpered.

"Now, Buttercup!" the professor admonished her sternly. "I expect you to help care for your sister, just as she would for you if you were sick!

* * * * * * *

But she never got sick, nor did Blossom or the professor come down with what Bubbles had. Bubbles' headaches became more frequent and more severe, and what little she did eat she didn't keep for very long. She was kept out of school and the professor would not let her do any crime or monster fighting until she was over it. He spoke to her pediatrician on the phone twice, and each time he was assured that simple bed rest and fluids was the proper course. But on the fourth day, Monday, when she seemed no better, he made an appointment for the next day.

That morning, she woke up feeling great. Her head felt fine and she was so hungry that the professor had to constantly remind her to eat slowly. He knew how anxious she was to get back to school with her sisters and get back to protecting Townsville, but there was nothing good to be gained by rushing things.

The doctor gave her a clean bill of health. "Just a five-day bug, Bubbles. You're as good as new!"

She was so happy she kissed the startled doctor. It made the man's day, but the moment would be totally forgotten when she was back in his office the next morning.

* * * * * * *

Everyone was happy to have Bubbles back at school. Her energy was contagious, and all of the children were in a happy mood. Perhaps too happy, Ms. Keane thought. By recess, she had become slightly annoyed at the disruptions. On three different occasions, Bubbles had suddenly gone into a giggling fit over something the teacher never learned the cause of. Her sisters were no help, Buttercup especially, but the third time it happened, Keane caught Blossom giving Bubbles the eye. She called recess and sent the kids out into the schoolyard to play.

Bubbles raced outside, laughing. Buttercup chased her. Suddenly, Bubbles tripped on something and fell in a heap. Keane gasped, but Blossom, standing next to her, said "Relax, Ms. Keane, it's only Bubbles!"

"Oh, that's right. You girls can't hurt yourselves by…"

"Bubbles!" Blossom shouted, leaving a pink trail behind her as she flew to her sister, who sat, bawling, on the ground. When she got there, Buttercup was looking down in disgust at Bubbles, who was holding a dandelion by its broken stem. Tears flowed from her eyes as she cried out loud. All the other kids began to crowd around in a circle to watch, and Keane pushed her way through. 

"Bubbles, it's only a stupid weed!" Buttercup growled.

Bubbles stopped crying and blinked. "Hee. Yeah, I guess that is kinda silly. Hee hee!"

She started another giggling fit and threw the stem to the ground. She stood up and stomped on it. "Stupid weed!" She continued giggling, her voice rising in pitch as she looked around on the ground for more dandelions to stomp. "Stupid weeds!" Her face reddened and her laughter turned to angry screaming as she squashed every one of the offending yellow flowers she could see. Keane and the kids stood stunned. Blossom and Buttercup grabbed onto their out-of-control sister.

"Whoa, Bubbles, calm down!" Buttercup yelled.

Bubbles' face went pure white and she sagged. Blossom helped her to her knees and knelt beside her, frightened out of her wits. "Bubbles, what's the matter?!"

Bubbles grabbed her head with both hands. "Oooohh, it hurts, it hurts worse than ever, make it stop.!" She leaned forward and threw up.

"Everyone, back inside, now!" Keane commanded. "Move it!" Without waiting to see if the children moved, she turned to the girls. "Go, girls, now!"

They didn't have to be told. With her sisters carrying her, Bubbles looked blankly past them. "Girls? I'm scared!"

"Take it easy, Bubbles, you're gonna be fine." Buttercup told her. 

"Yeah, Bubbles, you just weren't over the flu yet, that's all." Blossom said, exchanging looks with Buttercup. They were scared, too.

"No." Bubbles said. "Blossom ? Buttercup? I can't see!"

* * * * * * *

The sudden wild mood swings and the return of the headaches told Bubbles' pediatrician one thing: He was out of his league on this case. But what REALLY concerned him was the sudden loss of vision. "Professor," he said quietly, hoping she wouldn't hear. He knew all of the girls' capabilities. "I want you to take her to the hospital, right now. I'll call ahead."

Townsville General Hospital is an impressive facility, offering the most advanced medical care available. The building itself is kept up to date and designed and laid out for efficiency. Located several blocks from Townsville Hall, its front faces south, and a small park across a wide avenue. You cannot drive up to the front. The main building is rectangular in shape; deeper than wide, and is fifteen floors total, not including the ground floor, which is actually the basement. Running at forty-five degree angles from the east and west sides of the hospital are wings that house patient rooms. Also fifteen stories, there are four total and they are arranged so that if you were to view the hospital from the air, it would resemble a large X with a vertical box at the center. The main floor of the hospital houses, as you enter from the front, a half-circle shaped reception and information area. Directly behind it is a large room for press conferences with the media. Just inside the main entrance, to the right, is the large, comfortable waiting area. Directly behind it are some small rooms where doctors can discuss a patient's status with family who have been waiting. Behind these is the hospital security office. To the left of the main entrance is the gift shop, and beyond that, numerous offices or rooms housing the admissions department, and also the hospital chapel. Behind this section on the hospital's west side is the emergency department. Its outside entrance faces the circular drive to the west. The ER takes up the remaining space to the rear of the hospital. Adjacent to it in the center of the main floor are the operating rooms, preparation and recovery rooms; and further back, one of the two imaging units that serves the hospital, providing diagnostic X-ray, CAT scan or MRI services. The other, needed in a facility this large, is on the 7th floor. Taking up the remaining first floor space, on the hospital's east side and behind the security offices, is office space for some of the doctors in the surgical departments, and patient discharge, whose exit is between the two wings on that side. The emergency department and discharge areas are essentially opposite each other. Massive parking lots to hold literally thousands of cars surround the property on the east, north and west sides. A large, attractive grassy area rings the wide sidewalk at the south entrance.

The second floor, in the front of the building, houses the hospital administration's offices. Individual doctors' offices are scattered throughout the remaining floors of the central building, depending on the floor that houses that particular physician's specialty. Each floor contains a specialized area of treatment, or several depending on the size of the department. For example, the oncology department takes up the rest of the second floor and all of the third. The neuroskeletal department takes up all of the fifth, while the burn unit requires only a third of the eighth floor. The reason for this division is for ease of patient care. In the old days, a patient, once out of danger, was sent to the first available room. Doctors had to run all over the building to make their rounds. The new set-up is far more efficient. Intensive care units serve most, but not all of the floors. Doctors' and nurses' lounges are also found on most floors. 

On each floor, the northeast patient wing is reserved for the hospital's pediatric patients. For example, the second and third floors house kids with various forms of cancer. At the point where each wing of the hospital meets the main building, there is a nurse's station. Here, the corridors widen and bend, also at forty-five degrees, and extend into the main building, where they end at another nurse's station. Beyond these are the hallways that lead to the other departments on each floor. At the outermost end of every wing is a combination waiting area/solarium for visitors and patients who are well enough to move about, to sit and talk, read or watch a communal TV set.

Naturally, a series of connecting hallways runs through the entire facility. It would take a good while to get to any of the wings from the hospital's interior. The usual elevators and stairwells are arranged throughout as well, with the elevators serving only the main building. Staircases and exits are located adjacent to the elevators, near the nurses' stations and at the far ends of every wing.

After notifying the mayor's office of where the girls would be if needed, Professor Utonium got them all into the car and drove to Townsville General Hospital. Bubbles was expected and quickly taken to the imaging unit for tests, and the other two girls and the professor waited for several hours, between the waiting area near the main entrance, and the cafeteria, in the basement.

At just after eight, the professor and the girls were approached by an intern in blue scrubs and the professor was asked if he could speak privately for a few moments. Blossom and Buttercup exchanged worried looks, but the intern smiled and said it would take only a few minutes. While they sat and talked quietly, worrying, the professor went with the young doctor to one of the nearby small consultation rooms. There, he was told that Bubbles was going to be admitted. Tests showed there appeared to be something more serious than the flu, and due to medication she had been given, she would sleep comfortably through the night. There was no use in trying to see her. He apologized for not being able to provide more information; that would have to come from a specialist. An appointment with one had already been scheduled for the next morning. 

There was nothing for any of them to do but go home and try to get a good night's rest.


	2. Ch 2

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


**-2-**

On Thursday morning at nine, Professor Utonium sat in stunned disbelief in the small second-floor office of Dr. Adam Waldman, Townsville General Hospital's chief pediatric oncologist. He was a tall man several years older than the Professor, with short gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard the same color. He and the professor were dressed identically except that Waldman's tie was a deep red. 

Being a scientist, the professor had a pretty good understanding of what he'd just seen and had explained to him on the two sets of CAT scans hanging, backlit, on the wall before him. The difference was obvious between the one on the left, taken the day before, a few hours after Bubbles was admitted to the hospital after leaving her doctor's office; and the other, to its right. The newer one had been done that morning at seven. The small, irregular shaped masses were scattered throughout his daughter's brain, appearing as a deep red in their centers and spreading through the oranges into the yellows the further out they went. Blood vessels ran like little fingers into the centers. The healthy brain tissue showed up as a mottled pinkish color. In the scan on the right, the masses were noticeably larger. It was obvious, and ominous. A biopsy had been done, but the results weren't back yet.

What he couldn't believe, what had yet to register, was that only a week earlier his beautiful little girl had gone to school like always, bursting with life. Now he had just been told she was going to die. There was no hope, none. The doctor had been no less shocked and couldn't believe he was saying the words.

"Professor, I have seen every form of juvenile brain cancer there is, and I have never seen anything like this. Some tumors are localized and grow slowly, others are invasive and can spread rapidly. Most affect only one portion of the brain. This at least gives us some options: Surgery, radiation or chemotherapy, sometimes a combination of two or all three. In Bubbles' case, every key part of her brain is affected, except for the speech center, for some unknown reason. Intracranial pressure has leveled out but it is still extremely high, the tumors are cytotoxic and infiltrating…."

The professor heard the words and understood them, but he asked anyway the questions that were asked by every family member who had just learned their loved one was doomed.

"What course of treatment are you planning, Doctor?"

"Palliative care, Professor. We help her to go with as little pain as possible."

"I see." He didn't, not yet. She couldn't be dying, not his little angel…she couldn't… "How long, Doctor?"

Oh, how he hated this part of the job…playing God with someone's life. He'd seen cases where he'd given someone three months, and two years later they were cancer-free and healthy as a horse. The fighters. Others, once they got the bad news they just gave up and were gone in weeks when medically speaking, they should have had much longer to live. Bubbles would be one of the fighters, but he had to go with what he knew.

"These scans are twelve hours apart. The pronounced cell growth in that short period tells me days, Professor…not weeks, days. Perhaps less. I am very, very sorry."

The professor wasn't prepared to accept that. "That's not possible. How could that be?" he mumbled, more to himself than as a question for the man on the other side of the desk.

The doctor wanted to be objective. "I can't explain it other than that she's not like anyone else. None of the girls are."

The professor blinked hard several times. "_Of course! They're NOT like anyone else! Why did I think normal medical techniques would help her?_"

His voice lost its soft, disconnected tone, and he stood up. "Thank you, Dr. Waldman. If there's nothing more that can be done, I'll take her home. She'll be happier there, than here in the hospital."

The two men shook hands. "I'll sign the release," the doctor said, "and I'll pray for a miracle."

A voice came over the hospital's PA system. "Dr. Waldman, Code Blue, room 225, Dr.Waldman…"

Bubbles' room.

* * * * * * *

They had been sitting watching Bubbles, peacefully asleep at the moment, in her bed; hooked up to monitors and IV drip bags. Neither wanted to speak aloud their fears because they were afraid their sister might still understand them through the morphine. So they sat holding each other's hands, fighting the tears, each alone with her own thoughts. 

The Mayor's assistant and their good friend, Sara Bellum, had come to stay with them at the professor's request. She couldn't believe what was happening, either. The girls seemed so…so… indestructible. This couldn't really be happening. But she had seen it before. She and the professor had spoken about it briefly, out of Buttercup's and Blossom's hearing, of just what this could possibly be. From what she could see, this is what it probably was, and she was preparing herself, wondering what and how to tell Bubbles' sisters. That's why he'd asked her to come, because he couldn't tell them himself.

She had been standing behind the two girls, her hands resting lightly on their shoulders. She watched the tube that ran from Bubbles' body into the bag at the side of the bed, partially hidden by the bedsheet; and saw that it hadn't filled any more in over an hour. Bubbles' kidneys weren't doing their job, and she knew what that meant. 

Blossom and Buttercup had gotten used to the rhythm of the machines that their sister was connected to. They would emit a series of beeps occasionally, and a nurse would come in to hit a reset button, make an adjustment or replace an empty drip bag. But suddenly, a number of different beeps sounded simultaneously, and lights began flashing all over. They jumped up, and Sara was shocked, too. The next thing they knew, they were being shoved out of the room by two nurses and an intern, and the door shut behind them. Over the speaker in the ceiling, they heard the words 'Code Blue' and the number that matched the one on the door they were staring at.

"She's gonna die." Buttercup said, matter-of-factly. Then she flew down the hallway, punching and kicking the walls, leaving several holes. "Nooooooooo!" she screamed, and Blossom flew to her, got her in a bear hug and pinned her arms to her sides. Tears ran down their cheeks. Sara hurried over to them, knelt and pulled them in close, wrapping her arms around them.

"Girls, you have to think positive. They're doing everything they can for Bubbles and you have to believe she's going to get better."

"But she's not!" Buttercup wailed.

Around the corner from the opposite direction and toward them ran the professor and a doctor. The doctor stopped the professor from going inside the room with his hand and a look, then went inside and shut the door. The red light over the door was still flashing on and off. The professor looked angrily at the closed door. Sara stood up.

"Girls, wait right here."

She walked over to the professor and they talked quietly for several moments, occasionally looking or gesturing toward the girls. Once, he looked over and smiled at them reassuringly, but Blossom thought that he looked more angry than afraid. It didn't make sense. Then, the door to the room opened, the doctor poked his head out and nodded, and the professor went inside. Sara came over to them.

"Girls, I need you to be strong."

"She IS going to die, isn't she." Blossom said. She gripped Buttercup even tighter.

"Blossom, we can't lose hope. The professor hasn't given up. He thinks there's something he can do…" Her words trailed off.

"But the doctors don't, do they?" Buttercup asked. 

"_Boy, are they perceptive. I think it's best to just tell them the truth._" She knelt in front of them again.

"Girls, it does look very bad, but there's ALWAYS hope."

"Just tell us, Ms. Bellum. It's cancer, isn't it?"

Sara's shoulders sagged. "Yes, Blossom. They can't stop it."

"I hate that word." Buttercup said. "We can be strong, Ms. Bellum. Our friend Carrie Blueberry (1) taught us how."

"Yes, I remember." Sara whispered.

"Yes, Ms. Bellum." Blossom agreed. "Bubbles must be scared but I know she'll be brave. We'll just have to be brave, too." 

* * * * * * *

Bubbles lay peacefully silent while the nurses and the intern went about checking, adjusting, and writing down findings on a chart. Dr. Waldman and the professor stood next to the bed on the door side.

"Professor, things are going much faster than we expected. Her kidneys have shut down. Her other major organs are in the process. Her heart and respiration are strong yet, but they are slowing. We are looking at hours, now."

The professor maintained his silence, staring stonily at the doctor, who continued, glancing momentarily toward a monitor while the other three people in the room did their work.

"Her brain activity is dropping rapidly. If you plan on speaking with her, now would be the time. We're bringing her out now." Out of her sleep.

"Doctor, I still say there's something I can do for her."

The man couldn't imagine what, but at this point there was no harm in trying.

"I don't want her moved. Whatever you intend to do may be done here."

"Thank you. I'll have to go home for some things…"

"I wouldn't leave the hospital if it were me, but whatever you have to do…"

* * * * * * *

Sara went in first, and came out after a few minutes biting her lower lip, trying to be strong herself. The professor in the meantime had explained to Blossom and Buttercup that there was still hope, but if there was anything they wanted their sister to know, they'd better say it now. They went in holding hands and came out the same way, ten minutes later. They were sobbing, but Blossom surprised the professor with the news that Bubbles could see again. He hurried inside.

"She has her vision back temporarily. Not unusual. As the healthy cells die, there is less pressure on the optic nerve." the doctor told him.

Bubbles looked over to him and smiled weakly. He smiled back and walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hi, Professor. I can see again and it don't hurt as much now!"

He stroked her blonde hair. "That's good, honey. You should rest so you can get better quicker."

"It's OK, Professor, I know what's happenin' to me. Professor? Will Grandma and Grandpa Utonium know me when I get to heaven? They never saw me before."

"Of course they will, Bubbles. They know you now, but you won't be seeing them for a long, long time yet."

"Do you think they'll like me?"

"Honey, they love you just as much as I do…I-"

"Professor?" she interrupted. She was fighting to stay awake; the morphine was calling her back. "I always tried to be a good little girl. Was I good?" 

He fought to keep control of himself as he leaned in and pulled her to his chest. "Oh, sweetie, you're the best little girl anyone could want!"

He lay her back down, and he could see she was fading fast. "Now, you get some more sleep and we'll have you out of here in no time."

She closed her eyes, with a small smile on her face. "S'okay, Professor, I'm not scared no more. S'okay. G'bye, Professor…I love you…"

He let go of her hands, composed himself and stood. There was an embarrassed silence in the room. These people were professionals and dealt with death on a daily basis. They had witnessed countless scenes like this, but this one was too much for even them. They couldn't believe they were losing one of the Powerpuff Girls. They averted their eyes as he gave them a challenging glare.

"I'll be back."


	3. Ch 3

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


**-3-**

"Come on, girls, we're going home!" he snarled outside the room as he closed the door. The three who waited began to follow as he strode rapidly down the hall toward the rear staircase; Sara trying to match his pace and the two sisters floating alongside.

"But, what about Bubbles?" Blossom asked, wondering why he was so angry and thinking that his anger had made him forget they were going the wrong way. Their car was parked near the front. He suddenly stopped and whirled to face her. They all stopped.

"I'm not giving up just yet, and I can't do anything sitting around here! Now, let's go!"

"I'll be right here, girls." Sara said. "I'll call if anything changes."

"_If anything changes? I don't wanna be somewhere else when she dies! I wanna be with her!_" Blossom thought. It was stupid to leave. But Buttercup was as jumpy as the professor was.

"Yeah, let's go!"

"Thank you, Ms. Bellum." he told Sara. "Girls, we'll get the car later. There's no time."

That meant they were flying. Blossom didn't want to leave. She looked back at Sara, who smiled reassuringly at her. 

__

"NO!" she screamed inside her head. _"I DON'T WANNA GO!"_

"Please, Professor! Let me stay!" she pleaded.

His dark look darkened even more. "I'm not going to argue with you, Blossom. Now, come on!"

Sara stood, watching helplessly. It would be a good idea for one of the three to stay with Bubbles, but the man was distraught and she didn't feel it was her place to interfere.

Blossom began to break down. "Professor, why are you so mad at me?" 

He acted as though he'd been slapped, and the rigidness drained from him along with his anger. His shoulders slumped and he knelt beside his daughter and brushed away the tears that had started to form.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm not angry with you!"

"Who are you mad at?"

"Nobody. Everybody. Myself, mostly. I feel so helpless! I just can't accept that there's nothing that can be done."

"Yeah, Professor, there's GOTTA be something we can do!" Buttercup agreed. "But what?"

His expression changed suddenly, as if he'd just experienced an epiphany. "Buttercup, I think I just came up with something! You girls wait right here!"

He ran the twenty feet back to Bubbles' room and went inside.

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


Dr. Waldman and the three staffers seemed surprised to see him barging in. "Yes, Professor?" he asked. 

The professor looked at his desperately ill child with newfound hope, suddenly convinced he could save her. 

"Doctor, how big would she have to be for you to do the surgery?"

"What?!" Waldman was sure he'd heard that wrong, and if he hadn't, it meant the man's desperation had pushed him over the edge. 

The professor caught the raised eyebrows and wasn't fazed in the least. He was an inventor as well as a scientist and had gotten used to skepticism, even in the extreme, years ago.

"Doctor Waldman, do you remember a while back when the girls ran into that colony of fleas and were shrunk?" (2)

To the professor and the others in the room, it would appear that the doctor was trying to recall the event, but in actuality, Waldman's mind immediately began to process this new information. Certainly he remembered. Every adventure the Powerpuff Girls faced was all over the news after they'd successfully overcome whatever it was they'd had to deal with. And it hit him then, what the professor was getting at. They'd been shrunk by that odd weapon and been restored to their proper size. If it could work in reverse….of course, that would allow the surgeon ample room to maneuver, if Bubbles really could be made to grow. Waldman felt a growing excitement at the thought of a possible new technique opening itself up before him, but held onto that emotion. For he knew that even were it to work, it was most likely of no use to the little girl who lay comatose just feet away. The damage to her brain was, at this point, irreversible. But he was a doctor, sworn first to do no harm, then to help as many others as he could. Performing this procedure under these circumstances would do no further harm to Bubbles, and what might be learned from it could help thousands. He felt a slight pang of guilt for what he was about to do, agree to using the dying girl as a guinea pig. He also didn't want to dash the man's hopes, for there was still the tiniest chance for that miracle to happen. There was always that. 

Fully aware of his responsibilities, both to the patient and her loved ones, and to the greater good of society, he made his decision. "Why, yes, Professor, I do recall that…you're saying that you can make her grow?" Of course, he knew the answer was yes.

"Yes, Doctor, I think it's possible. I saved that ray gun and it does have a 'grow' feature."

Waldman's excitement now showed itself. "Professor, that might just work. I'm going to order another CAT scan right now and get Dr. Vora to look at it."

At those words, one of the nurses left the room, to alert the staff down at the imaging unit. Dr. Vora was the chief pediatric neurologist at Townsville General and would do the surgery if it was possible. She'd already seen the earlier scans and ruled it out.

"I must tell you this, Professor. There is the very real chance that it's just too late to help her, even if the enlarging works." He hated to say it, but ethics required that he be truthful.

"I understand." came the response. "But it's better than doing nothing."

Waldman clapped him on the arm. "I agree. Get moving, and we'll try to have everything ready when you get back. Come straight to the main desk and they'll direct you to the operating room."

* * * * * * *

To Buttercup, it seemed like the professor had been in there an hour, though it had been less than five minutes. It was driving her crazy, waiting. Seeing the nurse come running out set all of them on edge and she uttered a loud 'Finally!' when he stepped out of the room with the doctor and the intern. He said something to the doctor briefly and the two physicians turned and hurried away. He walked rapidly toward her. It was a determined look that he wore on his face.

"Buttercup, do you want to stay here with Blossom or come with me?"

The body language of both girls made it clear how they felt. Blossom was overjoyed at being able to stay and Buttercup couldn't wait to get out of there and DO something. She grabbed his arm and practically pulled him down the hallway. He grinned slightly and told Blossom and Sara that they'd be back soon, and he turned and ran, with Buttercup floating beside.

"I wonder what he's gonna do, Ms. Bellum?" Blossom said, watching them go. "Maybe it's not too late!"

She felt suddenly drained. Everything had been happening, it seemed, at light speed, and now there was nothing to do but wait. 

"I think I'm gonna go sit with her and just talk. She didn't give us a chance, before. I just hope she can still hear me."

Sara knew what Blossom was talking about. During her short time alone with Bubbles, aside from the nurses being in there, Bubbles had tried to say she was sorry, 'for hurting Townsville' was the way she'd put it, for all the unintentional damage she'd caused and for being a problem sometimes; and had asked Sara to ask the mayor to forgive her. Sara had tried to shush her and told her to just rest. She had gone in there to say goodbye, but just couldn't bring herself to. Bubbles had tried to do it for her. She was sure Bubbles had done most of the talking with her sisters, too.

"You go right ahead, dear. I need to go make sure Mayor isn't giving away the store while I'm gone. Just a quick call and I'll be right with you."

Blossom smiled at the thought of Mayor on his own in that big office. "OK." She watched Sara give her a smile and walk down the hall, then she floated to Bubbles' room and went inside. 

"Oh!" she said, seeing the other nurse, who was standing at the far side of the bed, checking readouts and writing on a chart.

"Don't pay any attention to me." the nurse said, not looking up.

"Do you think she'll be able to hear me?"

Now the nurse looked over at the small girl, who was pulling a chair up closer to the bed to sit. "Yes, Blossom, she can still hear. I don't know how deeply asleep she is, but some or all of it might get through to her. Just pretend I'm not here."

"OK. Bubbles, there's something I've always meant to tell you…."

It was hard, finding the right words. Bubbles had done most of the talking earlier and she hadn't gotten the chance. She realized right then the mistake of not being more honest and forthcoming with her feelings. Bubbles shouldn't have had to wait until this moment to hear them. She tried to sort out exactly what to say, and noticed the nurse unhooking her sister from one of the monitors. Its lights went out and it gave a small, final 'beep'. She flew out of her chair.

"Stop, what are you doing?!" she shrieked, her heart pounding madly in her chest. _"She's not dead!"_

Startled, the nurse gasped and took a step back, holding the electrical lead in one hand. At that moment, the door opened and a young male orderly pushed a bed, already made up, inside. Getting over the initial shock, and seeing the scared look on the girl's face, the nurse spoke.

"Blossom, we're taking Bubbles back to prep her for surgery. Once we get her there, everything will be hooked back up. Relax, she's in good hands."

"Oh. Sorry." Blossom said, somewhat embarrassed. "Can I go with her?"

The woman shook her head. "I'm afraid not. You'll have to wait in the waiting room. But you can stay here for now if you like. When your father and sister get back, we'll send someone to get you."

She began disconnecting the other monitors, leaving the contacts hanging from where they were taped to Bubbles' body in various places. The orderly moved to the near side of the bed and Blossom moved back to give him room. She watched as the two gently lifted her sister and situated her on the other bed, tucking the hanging electrical leads and the still-empty collection bag with the tubing running to her bladder, alongside her. She showed no sign of movement other than her slow, shallow breathing, which didn't change.

"Ms. Bellum is coming back here." Blossom told the nurse.

"Oh, good." The woman didn't like the idea of leaving a child this age unattended, even this particular one. It was her first personal experience with any of the Powerpuff Girls, and the small figure who floated there in front of her seemed nothing like the self-assured mini-adult she'd seen countless times on the news. "Why don't you try to take a little nap?" she said, with a smile.

Blossom felt a little more reassured, though her emotions still raged inside her. She appreciated that the nurse was trying to make her feel better. "Thanks, maybe I will. I do need to be alert in case there's a crime or something." She returned the smile and sat in the chair.

Just like that, the switch back from the child to the 'duty first' creature from TV. It was disconcerting, and the nurse gave her head an imperceptible shake. Her own duty lay in a coma before her, and it was time to move.

* * * * * * *

As they left the hospital, Buttercup and the professor did not see the white sedan with the blue decals that said 'KZIX-TV CHANNEL 5 NEWS' on both sides, that was parked only five spaces away from their own in the east side lot. Every reporter who was worthy of having the job had the professor's license plate memorized. But the reporter inside, at the wheel, and the cameraman, who preferred to be called a technician and was in the backseat fiddling with his wide-angle lens, saw them. Not coming out the front entrance like you would expect, but almost out of nowhere from the rear of the building, in the air three floors up. The reporter grabbed the cell phone off the seat next to him, from the pile of empty coffee cups and fast-food breakfast sandwich wrappers, and dialed the station.

"Stanley, something's up. Buttercup and the professor just flew out of here in a big hurry and left their car in the lot."

* * * * * * *

Professor Utonium had long ago gotten over the fear of being carried through the air by his girls. The first few times had been terrifying, but after his experience of helping them as a crimefighter in his short career as Power Prof, he'd found the sensation of speeding through the skies exhilarating. But not today. Now, he only wanted to get home, and back to the hospital. He concentrated on his mental list of what to gather as quickly as possible, wondering if the doctors had anything sufficiently strong enough to cut through Bubbles' skull. What it would take to penetrate bone that had withstood tremendous explosions and violent collisions with brick, steel and concrete from great heights, he hadn't a clue, and doubted if the surgeon had even considered that. The hardest substance known to him was a wondrous metal called duranium. It was very rare, and he had obtained some to use as cutting blades and drill bits, which had been essential in working with the titanium exterior of the DyNaMo. Perhaps some of what he had could be fitted to the surgeon's cutting tool.

As she carried him along, Buttercup knew he was thinking deeply and knew she ought not derail that train of thought. But she was desperate to know what he had in mind for saving her sister, and even more so to learn what she could do to help. Trouble, and big trouble at that, was nothing new to her. They'd been in plenty of jams and always found a way out. But this feeling of utter helplessness was new to her, and she couldn't stand it. So her desire to know won out over her knowledge that she should stay quiet.

"Professor, what are we gonna do?"

"…or perhaps a combination of lasers…oh, I'm sorry, Buttercup, did you say something?"

"Yeah, but I interrupted you. Never mind, Professor, what you're doing is more important."

"No, dear, that's all right. I heard you. I'm hoping that by enlarging her with that gun the fleas shrunk you with, that the surgeon will then have enough room to be able to remove what's making Bubbles sick."

She felt a new surge of hope. "Really? Do you think it'll really work?" She answered her own question. "It's got to, Professor, it's got to!"

It was probably too late, just like Dr. Waldman warned, but he couldn't tell her that. Somehow, though, she must have been able to read his mind.

"But it's not, is it?" she said matter of factly, then began speaking in a rush, choking on her words at times. "Professor, I know we were supposed to tell her goodbye, but I couldn't! Blossom kept trying just to tell her not to talk and that everything would be okay and that she needed to rest but I know it's cause Blossom couldn't do it, either!" Tears began to run down her face, the wind blowing them off in a mist.

"Please, Buttercup, try not to cry. I don't want you flying us into a tree."

Where it came from, she didn't know, but she giggled. Probably nerves. But the snapshot of her flying them smack into something because she couldn't see straight popped into her head and left just as quickly, and it got her attention.

"Sorry, Professor. But it was like she knew. She wouldn't let us hardly say a word. She kept saying she was sorry for all the times she messed up and for acting like a baby and for crayoning on my WWF posters and stupid stuff that makes me feel awful for gettin' mad at her for. I could tell Blossom feels like that, too. And the funny thing was we were the ones that were crying the whole time, not her. She knows, Professor, and I think she was tryin' to make it easier for us."

"I know, sweetie. She did the same thing with me."

"Then are we really doin' this for ourselves instead of her?"

Whoa. That floored him, because she was right, in a way.

"Yes and no, Buttercup. In a way, we ARE doing it for ourselves. It's our way of fighting, of saying 'No, I won't accept this.' It's our way of not losing hope."

"Is that fair to Bubbles?"

"No matter what we do, Buttercup, we're wrong. If we fight to keep her when that's not the best thing for her, it's not fair. If we DON'T fight for her when she might still have a chance, we're wrong, too. It's something we can't ever really know the answer to. Only God knows when it's her time. So we fight, because that's our nature."

"Yeah." Now THIS was something she understood. There was something else that he thought she ought to hear.

"Bubbles believes she's leaving us. They say people often know when they are about to die. But they are often wrong."

She felt the hope flooding back. "So, let's fight!"

He saw them coming up rapidly on their house, and steeled himself to hit the ground running. "Okay, here's what I want you to do…"


	4. Ch 4

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -4-**

Like most large hospitals in major cities, Townsville General has a media center. It is a place for the press to work; the reporters asking questions and the TV crews filming. There is always a visiting dignitary or celebrity who needs emergency treatment, or a high-profile crime or disaster that sends dozens here for help. In short, there is always a story of some sort and usually a press conference to accompany it. The hospital employed a fully-trained surgeon, who had lost the use of a hand in an accident, to field those questions. Depressed over the loss of his career, he had taken to his new one with gusto, and soon became as adept at reading media-types as he was at reading a patient's chart. He had a good rapport with them, but also knew they were there for one thing, a thing that was not always in the best interest of the hospital's patients. A story. That often meant unwanted publicity, attention, bother. He knew when to make himself scarce, and now was one of those times. The nature of Bubbles' illness was a closely-guarded secret.

It was in this room that Sara Bellum now sat, speaking to her boss, the Mayor of Townsville. She had it to herself on this Thursday morning at just after eleven. The room had a podium at the front with an attached microphone. Behind it on the wall was the hospital logo. To either side of the logo were screens built into the wall, where slides, photos, x-rays, etc. could be displayed and their contents explained. In the center of the room were five rows of long tables with benches, similar to a small lecture hall. Telephones sat every few feet on the tabletops. Underneath were a mass of wiring and outlets for electronic equipment to be plugged in. In the back and along the sides of the room was plenty of space to set up TV cameras and lights. Sara sat in the back row.

Reasonably certain that the city was safe, for now, she hung up. She had kept the truth of the situation from the old man, not trusting his ability to understand completely, or to keep quiet about it and not send the city into a panic. She thought for a moment about just how to break the news to a dear friend in the next few minutes, someone she had known since grade school, and then dialed the number that only she knew; the one that would connect her to the Powerpuff hotline. The special phone would ring in three places: In the professor's car, which was sitting empty in the hospital lot, at the girls' house, where she hoped Buttercup and the professor hadn't arrived yet, and one more place. Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. 

* * * * * * *

Matt LeBeau was a young man with a plan. Just 25, and only a year out of graduate school with a Master's in communications, he was new to Townsville. And if he had anything to say about it, he wouldn't be here long, either. No more than a few years, tops. He was bright, energetic, ambitious…and ruthless. This last quality, he believed, was essential for any reporter. Nothing should stand in the way of getting the story. And of getting to the top, which was where he was going to get, sooner rather than later. The only thing that stood in his way of doing just that was the one thing he had absolutely no control over: His looks. He was as plain as vanilla. He would be overlooked in any gathering of people, and this was a good thing for a reporter; to be able to go unnoticed and observe, unobtrusively. But that wasn't what he wanted to be. He wanted the fame and pay that went with being a TV anchorman on the nightly news, and his plainness was a huge obstacle to achieving that. His was a face that would never get noticed by the network brass, but by clawing his way to the top by being the best investigative reporter there was, he would earn his way into an anchorman's role. Once there, his face would be seen and eventually accepted by millions.

Townsville was the first step in achieving that goal. When it came time to apply for jobs, he'd searched around the country for the best place to start. Townsville had more big news stories per capita than anywhere else, thanks to its superheroine trio, and big news stories were what attracted him like bees to clover. He'd only been with KZIX for a few months but already had wormed his way into the good graces of its longtime anchor, Stanley Whitfield. LeBeau's keen instincts had landed him several scoops, scoops which he had dropped squarely into Whitfield's lap. Stanley was widely respected in the field, and was LeBeau's fast track out of Townsville. Whitfield was no fool and planned on keeping his status as number one anchor in Townsville for a long time to come yet. The arrival on the scene of a young, ambitious and more-than-competent reporter represented a threat to that, so a few good words to friends in the journalistic community and that reporter was off to a bigger city. They would never look back, and Stanley's place was secure. LeBeau knew that track record and was counting on the same happening for him.

LeBeau's internal reporter's antennae were twitching with the sense that a huge story, possibly the biggest to ever hit Townsville, was in the making. When the news broke the night before that Bubbles was in the hospital, he, along with his colleagues on the staffs of Townsville's other TV and radio stations and the print media, dashed for Townsville General. They were disappointed when there was no news conference, only a short prepared press release stating that the Powerpuff was being treated for dehydration due to the flu and was resting comfortably. 

"False alarm." the others had said, and they'd all left. When he routinely checked back at the hospital's information desk the next morning, he wasn't surprised to learn that Bubbles was still a patient, but he was startled to see Professor Utonium enter the lobby with his other two daughters and the mayor's assistant, Bellum. LeBeau had been in Townsville long enough to know that the sisters were inseparable, so letting Blossom and Buttercup skip school was no big surprise, but what was Bellum doing there? Yes, she WAS a family friend, but it sent a warning flag up that this was something more serious than dehydration. Once they had passed to the hospital interior, he'd quietly walked to a couch in the waiting area, sat, and called Stanley at the station, on his cell phone. Once advised, Whitfield thanked him for the tip and suggested he hang around and try to find out more. Lebeau suggested that a crew hang around the hospital entrance to see whomever else might come and go, and Whitfield agreed to do that. It was that crew that had spotted the green-eyed Powerpuff leaving the hospital with her father.

LeBeau had considered it routine, and only proper technique, to check back at the hospital in person, and he wondered why none of the 'competition' had done the same. The reason for that was, he hadn't been around Townsville long enough to understand the dynamic that existed between the city and its heroes. The other reporters had, and were a part of it themselves. To them, it seemed impossible that something really serious would ever happen to one of the girls and were treating this as routine. They had accepted the short press release on its face. What LeBeau didn't know was that each of his colleagues covering the story HAD called the hospital, only to be told that Bubbles was still 'resting comfortably'. It wasn't anything big. They would check back by phone again later in the day, if the more likely event of Bubbles showing up with her sisters at a crime or disaster didn't come first.

LeBeau had learned that being unremarkable in appearance had a benefit: Nobody noticed you. And he had also learned that the secret in staying unnoticed was in the way you behaved. Crooks, especially, got away with things because they acted like they belonged where they weren't supposed to be. Put your average citizen in that situation and they LOOKED guilty. They gave themselves away. LeBeau had practiced this art and was able to go just about anywhere by acting as though he belonged there. He'd spent the morning casing the hospital, walking its hallways and observing details most would miss. He'd not been challenged once. In his pale blue cotton shirt, narrow dark blue tie and chinos, he looked exceedingly ordinary. One interesting thing of note to him was where the janitors' supply closets were. There was, of course, the large central supply area which served as the base for the hospital's maintenance, but scattered throughout the building were small cubbyholes with doors, that were large enough to fill, empty and rinse a mop bucket from a sink inside. They were also large enough to change clothes in, and Lebeau had found several with janitor's coveralls hanging on hooks. From time to time, he would step into a men's room and jot down notes.

He had tried to find out the location of Bubbles' room but that was not disclosed. After an hour of walking every regular patient wing, he'd seen nothing to indicate the presence of any of the group he was looking for. That meant, most likely, they were all in one of the pediatric wings for seriously ill children. These areas, while not as restricted as the Intensive Care units, did have more nurses running around, so a bit more caution was required. He returned to the lobby and stopped into the adjacent gift shop. He bought the cheapest stuffed animal he found there and took it with him back to take the elevator to the second-floor pediatric wing. He didn't relish the thought of having to check all fourteen floors, but he caught a break. At just a few minutes after nine, he was halfway between the two nurses' stations of his first stop when he heard a doctor being paged, a Dr. Waldman. Half a minute later, he was nearly run over by two men, both in doctor's white coats, who suddenly approached from the main, interior station. One of the men he recognized as Professor Utonium. Unseen, he stayed behind them. They turned the bend at the second station. Pretending to look down at the toy in his hand as he passed the station, he saw what he'd been hoping to see: Above the door to a room on the righthand side, a light was lit, and outside stood Utonium, looking up at the light. LeBeau was too far away to read the man's look. Approaching him was Bellum and behind her was the red-haired Powerpuff, Blossom, standing on the floor with her arms wrapped around the green-clad Buttercup. They all appeared to be quite distraught. 

He looked at the number on the door of the room he was nearest and mentally counted down to where they stood. Now knowing where Bubbles was, LeBeau quietly backed away, repeating the name 'Waldman' to himself. He didn't know if the name matched this doctor, but he would in a matter of minutes. Unnoticed, he left the stuffed toy at the nurses' station on the way out. Down the stairs to the first floor and back out to the waiting area and the hospital directory. It was an interactive video display, where you could select a physician's name from an alphabetically arranged list, and the selected doctor's picture and a brief bio would come up on the screen. He selected the name 'Waldman'.

_"Bingo!"_ The name matched the face he'd just seen. Then he did a double-take. _"Oncology?! Holy smokes!"_

Without bothering to walk over to the couches, he whipped out his cell phone and punched in Whitfield's number. "Stanley, you sitting down? This is huge, Stanley. She's being seen by an oncologist, name's Adam Waldman. That's right, oncologist, no joke."

Whitfield told him that he would try to confirm it after giving LeBeau ten minutes, and that he would be standing by with a crew. He asked LeBeau to keep observing. LeBeau hung up and returned his attention to the video display. He punched in the name, 'Johns', for Dr. Timothy Johns, the hospital's Director of Information, officially. He was the one who dealt with the press. LeBeau pressed the keypad that showed the location on a map of Johns' second-floor office, and took off in that direction. 

* * * * * * *

Dr. Timothy Johns, a man of 47, stood and stretched his short frame, running his nerve-damaged left hand through his graying blonde hair. He no longer practiced medicine but he still wore a white coat, open today over his white shirt, maroon tie and grey slacks. He sighed and sat once more in his office, not at all looking forward to the task at hand. He was charged with preparing a statement with what little information he'd been given. He'd been apprised of the seriousness of the situation with Bubbles, but things were happening so rapidly he didn't know how serious. But even with what he had, he could see that it was going to be the most unpleasant experience he would have in this job. It was inconceivable, what he was looking at. But there had been no pressure from the media at all. That was about to change. The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up.

"Johns. Oh, hello, Stanley."

"Tim, when were you going to break this to us?"

Uh, oh. Someone knew, but how?

"Break what, Stanley?"

"About a patient of yours that's being seen by a pediatric cancer specialist."

Yep, Stanley knew, all right.

"Stan, if you're referring to Bubbles, yes, she was seen by an oncologist, but all I can tell you is that she is still undergoing tests and I can't confirm or deny any other aspects of her stay here."

"What's her condition?"

"Unchanged from last night. She's resting comfortably." Which was technically still true. Patients in a coma usually showed no outward signs of physical distress.

"All right, Tim, but if there's anything more to this, we and the people have a right to know."

__

"Yeah, but no one's interests are served if this place is crawling with reporters. Except yours." Johns wanted to say but didn't. "Don't worry, Stan, you'll be the first to know."

He hung up. That was one way of controlling the media frenzy. Feed one source, who would prefer to get the scoop and keep that info from his colleagues. Once Whitfield ran with something, the rest would descend on Townsville General like a pack of hungry wolves, but for now, he would have some time to prepare. But if Whitfield knew what he did, something, or someone, was afoot here inside the hospital. He picked up the phone and dialed hospital security.

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


Fortunately for LeBeau, Johns' office had a clear vertical pane of glass alongside the door with the doctor's name and title on it. He casually sipped from a drinking fountain across the hall, then stopped to tie each of his shoes, all the while keeping an eye Johns, who was on the phone with someone. LeBeau guessed that it was Whitfield, judging from the annoyed expression on Johns' face. Then he saw the man hang up, and with a determined look, pick up the receiver again and punch four numbers. Four numbers. An in-house call. Security. Lebeau quickly looked both ways, saw no one, and rapidly made his way to the staircase that led down to the first floor. He knew that when he got there, the hallway to the left made a T with another, and that the hallway that was the right branch of that T intersected with the one where the security office was located. He made his way to the T and looked down that right turn, knowing that if he saw no one, whatever detail had been sent was off to another part of the hospital. But if they came into view as they rushed through the intersection, that meant they were headed in the direction of the pediatric wing. Sure enough, three men in blue shirts and black pants trimmed in gold zipped by. Three, he guessed, meant one at each of the two entrances to the wing, and a third to be stationed outside Bubbles' room. No matter, he wasn't going back there anyway. His next stop was the media center, to observe. Perhaps Stanley's call would spur some activity there, in the form of setting up for a press conference.

He'd passed by the door to the room twice already during his earlier rounds of the facility, and both times the door had been open and the lights turned off. Now, as he approached, he could see the door was closed and a sliver of light came through the crack at the bottom. He recognized the voice of Sara Bellum coming from inside. Carefully, he turned the handle, and found the door to be locked from the inside. He knew there was a janitor's closet just around the corner so he went to it, and luckily, this one had a set of coveralls and even better, the mop bucket was already full. He threw the clothes on over his own and found they fit his smallish 5' 7'' rather nicely. He rolled the bucket over to just outside the doorway and began a slow mop while trying to listen in through the closed door. 

"Yes, Mayor. Black, three sugars…yes, I'm sure…no, cream and NO sugar is how I drink it!"

LeBeau grinned. How did the guy keep getting elected time after time?

"Yes, Mayor, I'll be sure to tell her. 'Bye."

He stiffened, ready to move if he heard her walking to the door. Instead, he heard a loud sigh and a pause.

"Hello, Jennifer? It's Sara…"

He had no idea who Jennifer was. Probably someone else in the office she was telling to keep an eye on the old goat.

"…Jen, I know you can't do anything until school lets out, but get here as soon as you can…"

__

"Jennifer…yeah, Jennifer Keane, that's their kindergarten teacher…"

He listened, stunned, while Sara quickly and as best she could without breaking down, explained the gravity of the situation. He heard the woman's voice catch a few times. The shock of what he was hearing caused him to jerk and his foot kicked the mop pail, splashing water onto the floor. He saw a head poke out of a door down the hall and jumped to cleaning up the water.

He heard, "I'm sorry, Jen, I forgot about the kids…" Then he heard her say goodbye. He took the bucket back to the closet, went inside, and closed the door. He flipped the light switch on, got out of the janitor's clothes and pulled his cell phone out of his shirt pocket. Thinking better of it, he shoved it back in his pocket and exited the closet, checking both ways first. He went straight down to the cafeteria, knowing there'd be enough background noise so he wouldn't be overheard.

"Stan, this is LeBeau…you'd better get down here…" He glanced at his watch. It was five after eleven.

  
  



	5. Ch 5

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  
  
  


** -5-**

Ms. Keane knew that what she had seen yesterday in the schoolyard was not routine, and the fact that none of the girls were sitting in her class confirmed it. In fact, it told her that whatever was wrong with Bubbles might be very serious indeed. All that morning, she had done her best to not think about it and keep her kids focused on their lessons. So far, it was working. They didn't seem too worried. They all knew what the flu was and it would make sense to them that maybe now all three of the Powerpuffs had it. That meant all she had to do was keep her own thoughts buried. The ringing hotline changed all that. 

She was used to it ringing when the girls weren't there. Often, when she was alone in the room after school, hanging the children's artwork, straightening up or something, it would go off. But it was always answered quickly, she knew, at their home or in the professor's car. She'd learned to treat it like background noise. But for it to be ringing now was wrong. Certainly the mayor knew the girls were at the hospital, so what would he be doing using the hotline? When it wasn't answered after seven rings, she picked it up, as the children watched her with questioning looks.

"Hello, Jennifer? It's Sara…"

After a minute of listening, she became aware the children were watching. She didn't know what she might have told them by her expression. She turned away from the kids and whispered, "Sara, the children are all watching…I'll be there as soon as I can."

She listened for another minute, then turned back to face the class. "Well, I do hope the phone company gets this problem fixed soon. We can't have these interruptions during school hours. Thank you…have a nice day!"

She said these words into a dead phone; Sara had already said goodbye. To the class, she said, "Well, they'd better get that fixed before the girls get back…now, I think it's time for recess, don't you?"

"Yay!" The children all jumped out of their seats, and some headed for the door to the playground.

"I'll be right out…NO RUNNING!"

After they were all outside, she went to her small office and burst into tears, giving in to her emotions. This couldn't be happening…she looked at the clock on her desk…nearly four hours until school let out. She couldn't call all the parents to have them come get their kids, she couldn't arrange for a substitute this far into the day. The hospital staff were professionals and had their jobs to do in spite of their personal feelings… she was a professional and must do the same. She had a responsibility to her young charges. The news would be made public soon enough and they would look to her to help them make some sense of it. No point in worrying them about it ahead of time. She composed herself and left the office to go supervise her students.

* * * * * * *

Sara wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue, then got up and left to go back to sit with Blossom and Bubbles. She hadn't meant to be away this long and wondered how Blossom was doing, sitting alone with her thoughts, watching her sister lying there. Of course, she didn't know that Bubbles had been taken down to the O.R. and that Blossom was now all by herself. That would have made her feel even worse. But something was going to shock her even more in the next few minutes.

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


As hard as Blossom tried, sleep would not come. A jumble of thoughts ran through her head. She'd been about to say something important to Bubbles but now that chance was lost. Why couldn't she say what she really felt? Why was it so hard to tell someone that you loved them and that you were sorry for the hurtful things you said when you were upset and not thinking? Why was this happening? It was so unfair! Everything her sister had done for the world and this was how she was rewarded, to not ever get the chance to grow up, to live out her dreams, all the things she used to talk about but Blossom had only half-listened to because she was too wrapped up in herself.

She heard a noise out in the hall. A man dressed sort of like a cop stuck his head in and said he was just there to keep an eye on things, then stood outside in the hallway. That was good. She didn't really feel like talking to anyone right then. Her thoughts drifted along with her eyes, back to the empty hospital bed in front of her.

Empty. That's how she felt, and would feel forever. The emptiness in the blue skies that Bubbles loved so much; two streaks when there was supposed to be three. The empty spot in their bed. The empty hole in her heart that would never be filled ever again. Why?!! How was she going to go on without Bubbles? She would have to, she and Buttercup, because it was their duty. She just couldn't imagine how she would do it.

It had been a mistake to stay here. She should have gone with Buttercup and the professor. At least she would be doing something to help. What was he going to do? Could he do anything when the doctors couldn't? Or was he just feeling the need to do something, anything, to try to take away that feeling of helplessness?

She rubbed her forehead. _"All this thinking's giving me a headache. I need a drink of water."_

She floated to the small bathroom and went inside. She took a small paper cup from the dispenser and drank three glasses full, then looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. _"I'm a mess!"_ she thought. Her eyes were puffy from crying and lack of sleep. Neither she nor Buttercup had slept much the night before, worrying, though they never imagined it would ever be as bad as this. That and the stress, she knew, were what was causing her head to hurt. She tried to open the mirror, thinking it would be like the medicine cabinet in their bathroom, but it was just a mirror. She'd have to ask a nurse or somebody for an aspirin. The pain caused her to close her eyes for a second and she massaged her temples. When she opened them, what she saw made her hands fly to her mouth in horror.

__

"Oh, no! I'm doing what Bubbles was doing! It's happening to me, too! I'M GONNA DIE, TOO!"

* * * * * * *

Her panicked scream alerted the security guard. While trying to make some sense of her frantic babbling, he pushed the 'call' button attached to the side of the bed and within seconds, two nurses barged into the room. The child was too wound up to understand clearly, but one nurse made out enough. She bolted from the room to her station to summon help, thinking, _"Why didn't anyone think to check?"_

Blossom's shrieking could be heard throughout the wing, and it wouldn't be quieted until a familiar face could offer her some comfort. That face was Sara's. She heard the screaming, recognized it, and ran the rest of the way, glad that she'd thought to put on a pair of flat shoes and leave her heels in the car. When Sara got to the room, Blossom nearly knocked her down and held onto her for dear life, bawling out her fears for herself and for Buttercup, too. They were all doomed.

Sara sat and let the shaking girl cry out that fear, doing her best to reassure her that her headaches were just from being tired and stressed out. Not trained to deal with this, the guard made a hasty exit and took up his post once more. The one remaining nurse assured Sara that a doctor would be there soon to look Blossom over, but that's what it likely was, stress and fear. It started to make sense to Blossom, too, and she began to feel embarrassed for creating such a scene, but she was content to remain where she was, in Sara's arms. 


	6. Ch 6

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -6-**

Dr. Ravi Vora bored her piercing, dark eyes into those of Dr. Waldman's as she looked at the man who stood a foot taller than her stocky 5' 2". She had just seen the latest CAT scan done on Bubbles, who lay in the prep room just outside Operating Room # 3, hooked up to the monitors once again. Waldman had briefly explained to the 35 year old neurosurgeon whose specialty was children with brain tumors, what Professor Utonium's plan hoped to accomplish. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Adam, but no." she began, with just the trace of a lilting accent in her voice, left over from her childhood in her native India. "I understand what you are thinking, but that," she said, indicating the scan on the wall with her highly-skilled left hand, "tells me there is no use. I will not subject the child to needless surgery. Hers is a unique case and there is nothing I can learn from her that may be useful in treating other patients like her. There ARE no other patients like her."

He hadn't really expected a different answer once he'd seen the newest scan himself. The tumors had all connected into one dark mass in the center of the brain, and the outermost edges had gone to a pale yellow, meaning the heat was gradually draining from the dead tissue. What was keeping Bubbles breathing was a mystery to him. Everything, all her major organs, had shut down. Her respiration and heart rates were at levels that could not sustain life. Her blood oxygen level, in spite of the pure oxygen she had been fed through the mask, had dropped to 40% and that meant imminent death. Yet her slow, shallow breathing was not labored and she didn't seem to be struggling. In fact, when they had first reattached all of the contacts and the heart and respiration rates were shown to be below the critical point, they had tried hooking her up to a respirator. Though her eyes never opened, her body leaped several inches off of the bed and it took two nurses and Waldman himself to hold her down. She didn't stop fighting them until the respirator had been removed. It may have just been the convulsions that were long overdue anyway, considering the destruction of her brain tissue, but to Waldman it had seemed as if Bubbles was telling them _"Please, no machines! Just let me go!"_

His earlier prognosis, given what he was seeing, may have been wrong. Her death may no longer be just hours away. It might be another whole day, but the end result would still be the same. She was, for all practical purposes, already gone. The most important indicator of life, on the monitor showing her brain activity, had flatlined shortly after the failed respirator episode. That meant no more instructions were being sent out from the brain to the body. Her heart and lungs were slowing, and would continue to slow until they could slow no more. He could only chalk it up to the unique Powerpuff physiology that she could last even this long. Dr. Vora was right, they had no other basis for comparison, nothing at all to really learn from her.

He looked at the attractive, dark-skinned face and sighed. "Yes, Ravi, I guess you're right. I was holding out some hope, still."

She touched his arm and gave a sad smile. "Yes, Adam, I was, too, when you told me about this idea. I know how much the girls mean to this city, and I don't like it, either. But Professor Utonium's plan may prove to be beneficial after all. I would like very much to try it in another application."

A nurse stuck her head in the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Waldman, they need you in Bubbles' room. Blossom is having headaches."

The two physicians looked at each other sharply. Waldman told the nurse, "Have her sent to imaging immediately and I'll be there shortly. Have word sent to the main desk that when Professor Utonium and Buttercup arrive, she is to be brought directly there."

The nurse left quickly. Waldman muttered to himself, "Why the hell didn't I have them ALL tested?"

Vora touched his arm reassuringly. "Remember what every first-year intern is taught, Adam. When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. No one could have thought this might be happening to all of them, and it still might not."

"Yes, of course, Ravi. But just the same…Maybe you should go ahead and prep just in case. You might get to try this out anyway."

* * * * * * *

Buttercup did what she was told and rapidly gathered some changes of clothes for herself, Blossom and the professor. In an act of hope, she also grabbed one for Bubbles, too. He'd suggested that she ought to bring something along to keep them busy, as no one knew how long they'd be there or when they might get a chance to get home again. She got a few of Blossom's books that she guessed her sister might like to read, and for herself, took her hand-held video game and her three most favorite cartridges. She didn't know if the hospital would have any of that stuff, so she brought toothpaste and four new toothbrushes, still in their boxes. She threw everything into an overnight bag and started to zip it shut, but was thinking that she had forgotten something. She flew back to their room and looked around, trying to figure out what it could be. She had their clothes, stuff to do, stuff they needed…she saw Bubbles' crayon artwork hanging on the wall, and it hit her like a kick to the stomach. Bubbles might never again see this room or any of her favorite things in it. 

__

"No! Don't think that! She's coming home, just keep telling yourself that!"

She turned to go and caught herself. THAT'S what she'd forgotten. Octi. She flew to the bed and picked up her sister's beloved stuffed octopus, held it to her chest for a moment, then left the room and gently laid it in the bag on top of everything else. She zipped the bag shut and took it with her, down to the lab to see if the professor needed any help.

* * * * * * *

Professor Utonium stood briefly with the weapon in his hand, wondering, just as he'd done right after that strange encounter the girls had had, just how the heck FLEAS could come up with something like this? Why couldn't he? Oh, well, if you were that small and just happened to be sentient, you very well MIGHT put all of your energies into something that could affect the size of objects in relation to you.

After checking to see that the batteries were fresh, he tested it on some empty glass bottles; first increasing their size, then shrinking them to miniatures, then finally returning them to their original dimensions. This was to be certain the switches that controlled the settings were working properly. Next, he found an AC adapter amongst his collection of them, that would allow the gun to work with alternating current instead of batteries, just in case they failed. He then re-tested it, with the same results. That was all, time to go as soon as Buttercup was ready.

"I got everything, Professor!" 

He spun to see her, holding the bag that was crammed full. He looked at his watch. Eleven-twenty. "Let's go!"

* * * * * * *

At eleven thirty, Sara Bellum sat in the waiting area in the imaging unit while Blossom underwent a CAT scan. At the same time, Matt LeBeau sat unnoticed in the main waiting area out front. After grabbing a sandwich and a soda in the cafeteria, he'd made his way out there, because Stanley had told him that Professor Utonium and Buttercup had left the hospital. He was just hanging out, waiting for them to come back. Stanley, he guessed, was probably already outside with a crew.

At the same time, Buttercup saw the figure she'd seen so many times, standing outside the hospital on the steps, dressed in his usual dark suit and tie. With him was a man with a portable video camera.

"Aw, man!" she said, as she started to bank down toward the hospital.

"What, Buttercup?" the professor responded as he held both the carryall and the weapon concealed in another bag so as to not reveal that it was a gun. "Did we forget something?"

"No, Professor, it's Stanley! Somebody found out!"

"Oh, great, that's all we need. Well, we'll just have to play dumb."

She braked herself, lowering to the sidewalk and gently standing the professor on his feet. She took the bag with their stuff in it from him and floated alongside as he started up the steps toward the two men who were waiting for them.

* * * * * * *

Stanley Whitfield was a true believer in the journalist's credo that the people had a right to know. But he was also a life-long citizen of Townsville and never held any ambitions beyond the place he loved. He would never do anything intentionally to harm it. He believed that while the people DID have a right to know, they didn't need to know everything as it was happening. The facts could always come out later. He felt that he was an excellent judge of when to present those facts. But he did not like having facts withheld from him, and he sensed that the hospital was doing just that. He intended to get them. Once he knew what was going on, then he could decide best how to put the story out. If there were something that ought not to be made public, for the risks it might present, then it could wait until it was no longer a risk. He would learn what he could from Professor Utonium, add that to what he already had from his young colleague inside, and then try to fill in the gaps with the man himself, Dr. Timothy Johns.

He stepped forward. "Professor Utonium, can you tell us Bubbles' condition?"

"Not now, Stanley."

"Is it unchanged since this morning?"

"It was when we left to go get a few things. Now, if you'll excuse-"

"We said not now, Stanley!" Buttercup barked, thrusting her face in the reporter's. That wasn't unexpected, given the girl's normal disposition, but as he let them pass, Whitfield noted that Utonium seemed unusually tense. He would wait a few minutes and then try to find the reclusive Dr. Johns.

* * * * * * *

LeBeau saw them coming through the door. He let them approach the desk and quietly got up and took a seat closer to them, where he could watch and listen. He picked up a magazine and raised it in front of his face, blocking it from sight but allowing him to see out over the top. 

One of the receptionists picked up her phone and said, "They're back." She stood. "Professor, they're waiting for you in O.R. # 3."

Out of the corner of his right eye, LeBeau saw two security guards come from the hallway behind and approach the desk. He also saw a nurse coming from the opposite direction.

"Professor, we just need to take a quick look at that thing you've got." one of the guards said, looking down at the bag Utonium had in his hand. "Rules require all weapons be checked."

__

"Weapons? What the…" LeBeau hoped his flinching hadn't been noticed. He couldn't believe it when the guard unzipped the bag and pulled out what looked like a laser rifle of some sort. A last-ditch attempt to try to save his daughter, and he was surprised that doctors would even think of allowing it. _"I've got to get back there!"_

He started to think of how, but he heard something else as the gun was replaced and the bag zipped up. As the guard said, "Follow us.", the nurse stepped forward.

"Buttercup, would you come with me? Blossom is waiting for you back there."

"Back where?" the child asked, and the professor looked over at the nurse.

"What's this all about?"

"Nothing to be concerned about, Professor. Dr. Waldman ordered CAT scans for them, but it's just a routine precaution."

Buttercup turned to him, aghast. "No!"

"Now, Buttercup, it's just a precaution, and a good one, too. Just keep thinking positive." He lifted the bag and smiled. "I'll see you two later."

"Okay." she smiled back. She floated along with the nurse and Utonium went off with the two guards. LeBeau sat there, thinking.

__

"Just a precaution, eh? What if it isn't?" 

If it was nothing urgent, why have a nurse out here just waiting for her to show up? They could have just as easily escorted her there after they'd gotten back to the O.R., which wasn't far from the imaging unit. Or not. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but still… a swing past the imaging unit wouldn't be a bad idea…


	7. Ch 7

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -7-**

Waldman and Vora were waiting for him, in a small office adjacent to one of the operating rooms.

"Professor, this is Dr. Vora." Waldman said as the professor again shook hands with him, and then shook the woman's hand. "She'll be doing the surgery."

"You must show me how it works, Professor."

"Oh, there's nothing to it, but this is wonderful! You really think this will help you remove the tumors?"

"It may, but I won't know until I see them first hand." Dr. Vora said. "Perhaps you should sit down, Professor."

He didn't understand the grave looks he was getting from the two physicians. He took a seat.

"Professor," Waldman began. "I'm sorry. We are too late to be able to do anything for Bubbles."

His mouth fell open; he was unable to say anything more than "But…". Waldman explained as gently as he could that his little girl was now essentially brain-dead and what was going to happen in the next few hours. He told him about how she had rejected any sort of mechanical assistance, and how that had seemed to him.

"Yes, I know she wouldn't want that." the professor said softly. "But if it's too late, why do you still want to operate? Can you learn something from her? I'm not sure I want you doing that…"

Vora sat in a chair and pulled it up to face his, and she took both his hands. 

"Professor," Waldman said quietly, moving around to put his hands on the professor's shoulders, "we aren't going to do this procedure on Bubbles. We need to see if we can save Blossom."

As expected, they had to hold him down but still he bucked in the chair. Moments passed as his face registered shock, angry denial and finally, acceptance. They wouldn't lie about something like this. He slumped forward and put his head in his hands. Then he looked up at them. "Does she know?"

"Yes." Waldman said. "We thought it best to wait for you, but she was very insistent on being told. She's scared, but she's taking it pretty well. I explained to her what we're hoping to accomplish and she's more concerned about her sisters."

"Yes, that's Blossom. Things upset her at first, but when she's had time to consider, she handles it better than most anyone I've ever met, and she's always thinking of others." Suddenly getting the implication of what they'd said, he sat up sharply. "Buttercup! Not her, too?"

"We won't know for another half-hour at least. She's being tested now."

He seemed to be sinking into a trance-like state. "No…no…" 

Vora squeezed his hands tightly and spoke sharply. "Professor, please!"

He looked up, then gave his head a shake. "Sorry. What are we going to do about it?"

Waldman was happy to see that. Many family members were zombies and of no use, and they needed him to be alert and coherent. The professor's setback seemed momentary, and it was.

"Professor, here is what we know. We asked Blossom if she could remember when Bubbles first showed signs of head pain. She thought it was about a week before Bubbles first became ill. That makes it around two weeks ago. Here…" Waldman walked to the desk and Vora stood, allowing the Professor to get up and follow. Waldman pointed to six printed-out scans on plain paper laying flat on the desk, three each of views of the top of the head and from the side. Not as detailed as the transparencies he had seen in the morning, they still showed the affected areas of the brain in shades of gray. The centers of the tumors were black.

He recognized two of the top-view scans as being Bubbles'. He hadn't seen the side-views before. The one was dated the day before at 6:47 P.M. and the second at 7:03 A.M. that morning. The third was dated just a short time ago, at 11:50 A.M., and was Blossom's. He could see a small dark spot toward the lower rear portion of the brain on Blossom's side-view, and on the top-view there were five very small dark spots arranged around the perimeter in an almost perfectly spaced circular pattern. 

"You can see," Waldman began, "assuming that Blossom is two weeks behind, that this appears to be just starting. This larger dark area is the brain stem. This is where we want to see if we can successfully remove the tumor. Brain stem tumors are difficult because they have a way of wrapping themselves around the various nerve pathways, making it tough to get all of them without causing further damage. We generally only treat brain stem tumors with radiation and chemo because of that but by using your enlarging ray, we may be able to improve on that. The other tumors, here, are small enough that we may be able to kill them with radiation."

"Well, I guess I better show you how this thing works." The professor bent down to pick up the bag holding the gun, then straightened up, a question furrowing his brow. "I forgot. How are you going to get at the tumor? I brought-"

Vora held up her hand. "No need. Someone, I don't know who, recognized that the girls might have special needs someday and thought to order some duranium-tipped blades for the bone saw, along with the needles and sutures we have."

He smiled, knowing that if anyone could help his daughter, it would be the people in this hospital. "Can I see her?"

"Right this way." Waldman said, indicating the door with his hand. "She's been asking for you."

* * * * * * *

It had worked once, why not again? LeBeau slowly pushed the mop pail along the corridor, with his head down and a grungy cap he'd found in the closet pulled low over his ears. No one had seen him and as he passed the media room he noticed that it was still empty. They were keeping a tight lid on this one and it was his job to pry it loose. The imaging center was just down the hall to the left from the intersection he was approaching, and the operating rooms were not far from there. But he'd get nowhere near there dressed as a janitor. A plan was already forming to cover that, but it meant doing some more research. First things first. What was going on with Blossom and Buttercup?

* * * * * * *

"How long does this stupid thing take?" Buttercup asked for the third time as the clock on the wall read half past noon. "Where's Blossom? Where's the professor?" she asked for the umpteenth time. "When can I go see Bubbles?"

"Just as soon as we're finished with you here." the young technician smiled at her. Now, hop up here on the table."

Buttercup didn't like the looks of the thing. It looked like a big rectangular metal-and-plastic doughnut. A huge white box with a big hole in the middle, and it had control panels on the front, on both sides of the hole near the top. In front of it stood a long, padded table on a big black base. The tabletop moved and once she was lying on it, it would feed her through that thing, but her head would be stuck in the middle of it first. 

She floated up to the table and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. "This better not hurt."

The young woman smiled down at her. "It won't hurt, but it may be a little uncomfortable. You have to keep your head VERY still. I've got something to help you do that, but I don't want you talking during the procedure. That means NO MORE QUESTIONS!" But she smiled as she said it.

"OK." Buttercup grumbled. The technician pushed a button and the table slid until Buttercup's head was nearly all the way inside the imaging chamber. She removed a special head holder, designed especially for scans of the brain and to keep the head immobile, from a compartment under the table and gently slid it under the girl's head. She placed a soft strap across Buttercup's chin and fastened both ends to the sides of the holder. Then she pushed the button and the table moved a few more inches and stopped. The woman used the guide lights inside the chamber to line up her target in the 'crosshairs' and stepped back.

"Now, you are going to feel the table move just a tiny bit at a time. It will take about twenty minutes. I'm going to be in the next room watching the whole thing. It's very important that you keep very still. If you don't, you'll have to go through again, and I'm sure you'd rather not."

Buttercup saw the woman leave her field of vision with a smile and she heard a door open and close. 

__

"You got THAT right! This stinks!"

__

* * * * * * *

LeBeau quickly stuck his head into rooms, having a 'Sorry, heard there was a spill down here. Guess not.' routine all worked out in case he needed it, keeping his head down the whole time. He had to use it just once, where a young woman was looking out through a window into another room. The sign on that door read 'Imaging Control Room'. Was that next room where the Powerpuff Girls were being examined? Was one of them in there now? Well, that was really unimportant. Finding out the results was what mattered, and he moved on. Using this scheme, he had found Blossom. She was in the prep room in a bed and Sara Bellum was holding her hand. He ducked quickly out and headed back for the closet to dump his disguise. He had just learned two important things from that brief sighting. First, Blossom wouldn't be in the prep room unless she was about to head into the O.R. for something. Second, Bubbles was not in that room. That told him that the little girl was beyond surgery and was probably back in her room, or another, awaiting the end. He realized that might not be the case. She COULD be in surgery at that very moment and he was heading back toward the operating rooms when he heard voices. He waited until their owners came into view. It was Utonium and that Waldman fellow, along with a short, dark-skinned woman with black hair. They were headed straight toward him, in the direction he had just come from. He slipped into the nearest room and shut the door all but an inch, then peeked out. Sure enough, they went into the prep room. Now, it WAS time to get out of there, but not before calling Stanley.

* * * * * * *

Whitfield was furious. He'd been waiting over an hour for Johns to get back to him. He and his video man had already gone over to the other two sitting in the car and they'd all gone for a quick bite. Now, at nearly quarter to one, he'd sent the reporter back to the station and the two technicians were working on setting up their equipment in the west parking lot. He stood in the lot, drumming his fingers on the roof of his car. Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed and he hopped in and pulled the receiver out of its holder.

"Whitfield."

"LeBeau. Stan, I'm on my way to find out more about some of these doctors. But what I can tell you is this. Blossom is at this minute being prepped for surgery and that cancer doctor was going in to see her as I was leaving."

"What?! Blossom?!"

"Yeah. And guess what. When Buttercup and Utonium first got back here, they sent her down to get a CAT scan, too, and I think she's back there now. Stan, it looks to me like they ALL might have this whatever it is."

"Dear God, Matt, I hope you're wrong."

"I don't think so, Stan. And get this. Utonium had this rifle that looked like a laser of some sort. Sounds like they're desperate to try anything. I don't know yet where they moved Bubbles to, but I'm pretty sure they've lost all hope. Looks like she's on the way out."

Whitfield winced at hearing that. All of Townsville loved the girls and he was no different. But something about the WAY LeBeau had said it bothered him. The youngster had seemed too cavalier about it. Yes, it was a hot story and he himself knew the excitement of being in on something big. But this, if it was true, was the makings of a tragedy of the first magnitude. He hoped that LeBeau had some sense of that and some feeling for the PEOPLE behind the story. They weren't just names and faces.

"What's your number on that phone you've got?"

LeBeau gave it to him.

"Look, find out what you need to, but don't do any more poking around. Johns has been putting me off and if this is true, I can't say as I blame him. We have to be careful with this one, Matt. Don't go anywhere until I get back to you."

Whitfield hung up.

"If what is true, Stanley? Who wouldn't you blame?"

He whipped his head to the side to see a shapely, raven-haired woman of about thirty, dressed in a black skirt and a bright red blouse, leaning in the window and grinning at him. Maria Santiago, the lead anchor at KCMC-TV, KZIX' nearest competitor in the ratings wars and a fine reporter herself. She was a former self-described 'rescue theorist' who his station and others had consulted in hostage situations, and when newcomer KCMC started up operations, they were looking for a talented on-air personality to give them instant credibility. It had paid off handsomely and the new station was second in the news ratings only to the undisputed king of the hill, KZIX. He chided himself for he and his crew hanging around outside and being so obvious. Before long, she'd have her own crew down here. He sighed and got out. She backed up to give him room.

"Maria, how good to see you."

"Cut the crap, Stanley." she said in her Hispanic accented English. "What is going on?"

"They're about to announce a major expansion."

"I see. And for this, KZIX gets exclusive coverage? No press releases to the rest of us?" She tapped a black-sandaled foot. "I am not buying what you are selling, amigo. This is about Bubbles, no?"

He frowned at her. "All right, look. My crew, just you and me, we try to keep this quiet."

"No deal. My boys go with me." He looked over to see the van with the competition's call letters emblazoned on the side, and two scruffy looking young men looking their way from the front seat.

"All right, but tell them to get their butts inside and park that truck out back where no one sees it. A circus is exactly what we don't need right now."

"Agreed. Move your car too, Stanley."

He grunted in annoyance. While she walked over to the van to give her crew instructions, he trotted over to his guys, told them to head inside and wait. Maria met him back at his car and got in, and as he drove to the back lot, he began to fill her in on what he knew. Together, they would put a little pressure on Townsville General to let a little SOMETHING out before it blew up in their faces.

* * * * * * *

It was ten after one. Whitfield and Santiago sat in chairs across from Johns' desk. Johns stared at Whitfield. "Where the hell did you get THAT from?"

The report on Blossom had just been faxed to his office. Buttercup's scan was being read at that moment. He had been working on a statement regarding Bubbles' condition and was finding it difficult. At some point, and soon, the public would have to be told. They would feel rightfully angry to learn, after the fact, that one of their beloved heroes had passed on and that they had been denied the chance to say goodbye. There would be a vigil kept outside, but he wanted to avoid a circus atmosphere at all costs.

"Never mind where I got it from, Tim." Whitfield answered. "Is it true?"

Johns put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, massaging his forehead. He sat back sharply and tossed a pencil onto his blotter. "Yes, it's true, but I want to know where you got this information! I just found out about Blossom not five minutes ago!"

Whitfield narrowed his eyes. "Look, Tim, we are not your enemies here. I understand your concerns but we can't help you if we're in the dark. Now, let's have it!"

Johns smirked, "In the dark, eh? You seem to know more about this than I do."

"All unconfirmed, which is why we're here."

"All right. You know Bubbles was admitted last night. At nine this morning, she was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer, in a form like no one's ever seen. Its rate of growth is beyond belief. She's hanging on, but it won't be much longer I'm afraid…"

Santiago stifled a sob. She already knew from Whitfield but had been hoping that it was all wrong.

"There was some hope for a radical procedure involving a device Professor Utonium has that can enlarge or shrink things. We were hoping that by enlarging Bubbles, she could still be operated on. That, unfortunately, is no longer possible. Later this morning, Blossom began to have headaches, which were thought to be from stress, but a CAT scan was done as a precaution. As you now know, the results were positive. It looks like the cell growth is about two weeks behind Bubbles', and a favorable outcome for her is expected. She will be undergoing surgery shortly, with Dr. Ravi Vora doing the procedure…Buttercup, we are still waiting to hear…"

"Thank you, Tim. Now, here's how we help you. We go down to the room and you issue a short statement. You have to let the people know about Bubbles, Tim, we owe them that. You ask that everyone that wishes to, to come down and keep a quiet, orderly vigil. No one will be allowed inside. Maria and I will stay outside with our crews and all we ask is that you keep us informed."

"And Blossom?"

The two reporters exchanged glances. Santiago spoke. "Getting her well is what is important. If there is a good chance that she will make a full recovery, there is no need to say anything about that now. It will only cause panic."

"Thank you." Johns said, quite relieved. "Now, Stan, where-"

"We have a young investigative reporter somewhere in the hospital. I'm in contact with him and I'll call him off. All we wanted was the truth, Tim."

The three stood and shook hands. Johns said, "Give me twenty minutes and I'll meet you downstairs."

He watched them leave, then made a fast call to the head of security, who was already aware of the gravity of Bubbles' condition. He quickly explained what was going to happen and asked the chief to make the necessary arrangements in conjunction with the Townsville police department, to keep things orderly out on the sidewalk and street in front of the hospital.

Outside Johns' office, Santiago stared at her colleague. "Someone is running around in here posing as a doctor?"

"I don't know exactly WHAT he's doing, Maria, but he's good. That's over now, though. I need to call him, so head on downstairs and get the guys outside setting up. You might want to call your boss, let him know the score."

She smiled, showing off her even, white teeth. "The score is tied, Stanley, and we are the only ones playing the game."

He watched her stride off, thinking, _"Yes, indeed. But I wish I was sitting this one out."_ He walked to a window overlooking the parking lot as he pulled out his phone.

"LeBeau."

"Matt, we got things squared away with Johns. We'll be covering the conference in about twenty. You can head on back to the station. Great work, Matt, I'm not going to forget this."

"Uh, thanks, but what's he going to say?"

"He'll be announcing the situation with Bubbles, the truth, Matt, thanks to you. We expect a crowd to show up and I'll be covering that. I expect we'll broadcast regular updates and break in when they make the announcement later tonight sometime, from the way it's sounding."

"What about the other one?"

"Other one?"

"You know, the other one. Are they saying anything about her being sick, too?"

__

"She has a name, you dork!" He was beginning to have misgivings about LeBeau's sensitivity, but then again, maybe he was too close to the girls. "Uh, right now, Matt, there is no need to run with that. Things may turn out well and the hospital doesn't want to give out anything about Blossom right now. I'm concurring with that."

"Uh, sure, Stan, OK. See you later." He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.

__

"The hell with that!" he thought. _" This one's too big. I don't trust them; if they held out on us this long, what else might they be holding back on? I can't believe Whitfield can't see that!"_

Twenty minutes to the press conference, eh? He'd be there. But he had a stop to make first.


	8. Ch 8

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -8-**

Blossom had been sitting up when the three walked in, and she flew right past Sara to the professor the moment she saw him. 

"Why is this happening to us?" she cried into his chest. Sara had already told her that the professor's device was not going to be able to help her sister. He had no answer for her. He lifted her chin.

"Blossom, this is Dr. Vora. She's going to make you all better."

"Hello, Blossom." she said with a smile, extending her hand. Surprised, Blossom put hers out. Vora was amazed at how soft it was, thinking that it would feel like the steel battering ram it always looked like on the news.

"Can you really help me?"

"Yes, Blossom, I think so."

"But why can't you help Bubbles?"

"You must not think about that now. You must concentrate on positive thoughts. It will help you to get well faster, and that is what Bubbles would want."

"I know." she sobbed. "It's just so unfair!"

All of the adults in the room agreed with her and none knew what to say. Just then, the door opened and in stepped the young technician that had done the CAT scans.

"Dr.Waldman, you wanted to know when I was finished with Buttercup?"

"Yes, thank you." he said. "I'll be right there."

She closed the door. Sara said. "I'll see you before you go in, Blossom. I'm going to go sit with Buttercup."

"It will be all right for her to come here." Dr. Vora said. 

"Yes, that's a good idea." Waldman agreed, and headed for the door. He opened it for Sara, then said, "I'll be back in a few minutes." and left.

The professor carried Blossom back to the bed and put her down. The doctor came over to stand next to her. "Blossom, would you like to ask me any questions before I leave to prepare?"

"Is it gonna hurt?"

"You will be asleep. When you wake up, your head may be a little sore where I've gone in, but we can give you some medicine for that. Your brain can't feel pain itself. When you get a headache, it's in your blood vessels that you feel it. So it shouldn't hurt too much at all."

"When can I fight crime again?"

The doctor didn't know how to answer that one. She looked at the professor. Blossom followed her eyes to his.

"Honey, we can't answer that right away. You girls have always healed quickly, but this is a little different. With the way you get banged around, I want to be sure you're completely back to normal first."

She considered that. She knew he was overprotective of them but that did make sense._"Hmmm. Yeah, if I get my head smacked on the sidewalk before it's all better, that wouldn't be too good." _

"Okay. Am I gonna lose my hair?"

Vora took over again. "Well. We will have to shave you where I'm going in, so that means you'll have to lose most of your ponytail, but not what's on top. It will grow back, though."

"I'm gonna have a bald spot?"

"Yes, for a short time."

"Well, in that case…Professor, me and Sara were talking and she told me about a place that takes hair and makes wigs for people with cancer whose hair falls out."

"I've heard of that, I think." he said.

"It's called 'Locks of Love." Vora told them. "That's a very nice thing to do, Blossom, if that's what you want."

"Yeah, if I get better, it'll grow back. If I don't, then I won't be needing it anymore."

"Now, Blossom, you'll be up and around before you know it. I don't want to hear you talking like that."

"I'm sorry, Professor." she said, her eyes downcast. She glanced up at him. "Will you come with me?"

"No, honey, I have to stay outside. But I'll be right there when you wake up."

"I want Bubbles to be there, too."

__

"I'll be there with you, Blossom," she heard Bubbles voice say. _"I'll always be with you."_

She began to cry.

* * * * * * *

It had been nearly a half-hour since LeBeau had left the imaging center area for the front of the hospital, and he was back there again, in the same disguise. He knew he was wearing it out and he thought he knew how to take care of that. But before he left for the media room and, what he felt, was a bogus press conference, he wanted one more piece of information. He slipped unnoticed into the empty room across the hall from the prep room and waited with the door open a crack. Several white-coated doctors, surgical team personnel in green scrubs and nurses in blue frocks and pants walked past, and a few beds were wheeled by with patients on their way to be taken either to the imaging chambers or, in the other direction, to surgery. After a few minutes, he heard a voice he recognized, that of Buttercup, complaining loudly about something. He peeked out and saw her floating alongside Bellum. They went into the room across the hall. Less than a minute later, Waldman came down the same hall and also went into the room. 

Cautiously, he took his mop pail out into the hall. He was in luck. Waldman hadn't closed the door all the way. He went into his act, mopping the floor, head down. During the next several minutes, he would be interrupted once. A security guard came out around the corner far down the hallway and spotted him with his ear to the door, not mopping for the moment.

"Hey! You!"

LeBeau spun his head around. _"Oh, man! Think fast!" _

"Que?" he asked. He'd learned Spanish as the required second language for earning his degree.

"Whatta you think you're doin'?" the man asked loudly, coming faster.

LeBeau looked down and started mopping, acting disinterested.

"Hey, buddy, I'm talking to you! What's so interesting in there?"

He looked up. "Que?" he said again. He shrugged. "No comprende. No habla Ingles."

The guard sighed. He pointed to the door and cupped his other hand up to his ear. LeBeau again shrugged. "Quién sabe? Todos esta hablando Inglés." _"Who knows? Everybody is speaking English."_

The guard was equally lost with the unfamiliar language. "Well, get back to work." Seeing LeBeau's perplexed look, he made exaggerated mopping movements with an 'air' mop. "Muy el moppo. No el listeno."

LeBeau laughed inwardly. _"You'd think this place could afford to hire some bilingual security." _What the man had just said was, "Very moppo. Not the listeno.", and would never know that it wouldn't mean a thing to someone who knew no English. 

He gave the guard a sheepish grin and looked at the floor while resuming his 'mopping'. "Lo siento." he said, and the guard gave him a final stern look and moved on.

The interruption would prevent him from hearing everything but he learned some very important information. When he first began to listen, he heard loud sobbing coming from inside.

Sara had told Buttercup the situation with Bubbles, and upon seeing Blossom, she flew to her and they embraced each other.

"Oh, Blossom, what are we gonna do?" she wailed. The adults just left them alone for the moment. They needed a few minutes together.

"I know, Buttercup," Blossom said softly into her sister's hair. "But we hafta find a way somehow. I hafta get better and we just hafta go on. Until I'm better, it's gonna be up to you."

Buttercup pulled away, the sudden sense of her responsibility hitting her. She sat next to her sister on the bed and looked up at the grown-ups; the doctor, Sara and the professor. Dr. Vora had already left to go over Blossom's chart and CAT scans with her surgical team of four nurses and the anesthesiologist, and to wash up and change. Buttercup saw Waldman looking right at her and he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, and she knew. "Oh, great, me too. Right?"

"No! NO!" Blossom shrieked and threw her arms around Buttercup, who just smiled grimly. "I shoulda expected it."

The professor looked at Waldman for explanation. Sara made her way behind the girls and placed her hands on their shoulders. Buttercup told the doctor, "Go ahead, Doc, I can take it."

"I'm not quite sure what to say." he began. "There is definitely something here." He showed the professor the side view first. A small spot, much smaller than the one on Blossom's scan, appeared in the same spot, near the brain stem. The top view showed nothing.

"This is nearly identical to Blossom's." the professor said. The girls looked at each other.

"Yes, just not as advanced." Waldman stated. "I'd guess one to two weeks' difference." He looked at Buttercup. "Buttercup, I don't want to risk doing surgery on you until we see how it goes with your sister."

He looked at the professor. "I wish Dr. Vora was here to see this. Girls?" he asked suddenly. "Can either of you recall being exposed to anything unusual recently?"

They looked at each other again and shrugged. "I can't think of anything." Blossom replied.

"Me either." Buttercup agreed. "Everything we come up against is kinda unusual, so who's to know?"

"What are you saying, Doctor?" the professor demanded. "You think this might not be cancer at all, but something caused by an outside substance or force?"

"I think it is cancer, but the fact that it's happened to all three of you girls suggests an outside influence. Long term exposure to chemical agents could cause it, even something short-term from monster secretions, but both the spacing and the seemingly identical patterns tells me it's not environmental."

LeBeau never got to hear the rest. He'd forgotten the time; what he'd been hearing was so fascinating. But it was just after one-thirty and he had to get to that press conference…

"What? You mean somebody DID this to us?" Blossom asked, suddenly outraged.

Buttercup flew off the bed, a dangerous look on her face. "I bet it was Mojerk!" she yelled. "Or Him! Or…" She ran out of gas along with possibilities, and slumped down next to Blossom. "I can't remember anybody sticking us with anything…"

"Or spraying us with anything, and not exactly two weeks apart, either." Blossom said.

"I know who did it." the professor said, slumping into a chair. Everyone spun their heads his way. "I did it…it was me, girls. Without knowing it, I must have planted the seeds of your destruction within you when I created you."

They were all over him. "NO!" Blossom wailed. "NEVER!" Buttercup bawled.

"Professor, that couldn't be either," Sara protested, "or it would all be happening at the same time."

"Professor, I understand you want to find something to blame it on, and it's easy to look to yourself, but she's right." Waldman told him. "This isn't your fault and it may not be anyone's fault. We may never know what caused this, but it isn't important right now. TREATING it IS."

"Yes, Doctor, of course, you're right. I'm sorry, girls, I'm not helping things any." They just continued to sob softly into his chest as they clung to him.

Just then, a member of the surgical team, a woman in her forties dressed in green scrubs, came in. "It's time to get you ready, Blossom. Professor, Dr. Vora needs you to demonstrate that gun, so I need you to scrub and change for me."

The girls looked up. It was time for things to start happening. They hugged each other again.

"I love you, sis. You're gonna be OK. I'm gonna be right here." Buttercup said quietly.

Blossom suddenly remembered all that she never got to tell Bubbles. And now there wasn't time, again. "I love you too, Buttercup. Don't worry 'bout me. Go be with Bubbles." It struck her that she might not see her sister alive again, and her eyes filled with tears again. She whispered, "Tell her for me…" It was all she could get out.

"'Kay."

"Come on, Buttercup, let's go get something to eat." Sara pulled gently at her arm.

"Okay. 'Bye." She waved to her sister, who gave a weak smile back as they headed out. "'Bye, Professor."

Outside the room, she told Sara she wasn't really hungry. "Where's all our stuff?"

"Oh. Back in the waiting room. After we get it, what would you like to do?"

"I wanna go see Bubbles."

Waldman was just stepping out of the room. "I'm headed there myself. We can go together."


	9. Ch 9

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -9-**

Cable News Channel, the World's Source for News, had an office and staff in many larger cities around the world. Townsville was one of them, due largely to the unusually high rate of disasters, crimes and monster attacks which struck it. But they, like most of their local colleagues, had treated Bubbles' admission the night before as routine and were caught napping. When this had happened in the past, whichever station had gotten the scoop sent a heads-up to the local CNC office with an offer to provide their feed to the national network. Standard practice was to give only five minutes notice, to prevent the CNC locals from getting to the scene. It was great publicity for the station to have its call letters broadcast around the nation or around the world, if it was a big enough story. Since it was KZIX' scoop, basically, it would be their feed and Stanley Whitfield's face that CNC national picked up. 

Anyone tuned into KZIX would see Whitfield, of course, and Santiago would appear on her station's simultaneous broadcast of the conference. Each of their crews were set up on opposite sides of the media room. Each had one camera trained on them, for their opening and closing remarks, and their second camera was aimed at the podium, where Dr. Johns would read his prepared statement. The focus on him would be tight, not showing the empty rows of tables in front of him. The only people in the room were Johns and the six media types.

At 1:39, CNC broke into its daily legal-issues program, 'Reasonable Doubt', with its familiar graphic and music for breaking stories. The daytime anchor, typically of that indeterminate age between 35 and 50, with perfect hair and teeth, began with, "This is Charles Wagner at the CNC newsdesk in New York…we are taking you live to Townsville, California, where we have just received word of a major tragedy involving one of the Powerpuff Girls…with us from our KZIX affiliate is Stanley Whitfield…Stanley, what can you tell us about this shocking news?"

At 1:40, the two local stations interrupted their programming with their standard 'Special Report' graphics, and Whitfield and Santiago gave a short intro and introduced Johns to the cameras.

"This statement will be very brief, as we are still trying to determine the full extent of the situation. I will not be answering questions at this time."

He cleared his throat and sipped from a glass of water on a small stand next to the podium, then adjusted the microphone. 

"Bubbles was admitted last evening with flu-like symptoms. After further tests, it was determined this morning that she has a life-threatening condition that is affecting her brain, the nature and cause of which we are still trying to ascertain. The damage to her brain is severe and the outlook at this time for her recovery is negative. The hospital and her family ask that any members of the public who wish to gather quietly outside our facility to offer their prayers and support may do so. We ask that you please respect the privacy and wellbeing of our other patients and that you follow the directives of city officials who will be available to assist you. That is all at this time."

Though the statement didn't take up half a page, Johns shuffled a stack of pages and stepped back, and turned toward the door. Millions of viewers world-wide heard and saw Whitfield turn things back over to Wagner with a promise of 'more as it becomes available', then the camera on Johns came back on.

Wagner's voice could be heard off-screen. "I'm talking to CNC's medical correspondent, Dr. David Bowerman. Doctor. What exactly were we just told?"

Bowerman's face, a youngish looking one with prematurely white hair, also perfect, replaced the shot from the hospital. "Charles, they are, for obvious reasons, reluctant to admit that they are losing someone as impor-"

The shot switched back to the media room. The camera was on a startled Johns, and Lebeau, who had suddenly entered.

Wagner broke in. "Excuse me, David, something's happening… Stanley, what's going on out there?"

The viewers heard and saw LeBeau pointing at Johns. "Matt LeBeau, KZIX News. Doctor, will there be an autopsy done, and if so, do you think the findings might help in the treatment of her sisters, who are also affected by this same rare form of cancer?"

They saw Johns' jaw drop, his face turn red, and saw him rushing at the newcomer, trying to shove him out the door. They heard him shouting for security. They also heard angry shouts from an unseen man and woman, and LeBeau's protests. What they didn't know was that Whitfield and Santiago were the ones outraged and yelling, and they didn't see Whitfield giving the 'slash across the throat' signal to his crew. Trained to get the picture, they didn't notice it until the third try, and the signal wasn't cut until millions heard, "Turn that damned thing off!" Santiago's crew did the same. The two local channels went 'dead air' for a few seconds until their respective directors got the regular programming back on. CNC lost its connection, but the response was immediate. 

Bowerman broke in, "Charles, I don't believe what I just heard…"

Exactly what the two veteran reporters and Johns had tried to avoid was about to happen.

* * * * * * *

While the rest of the world began to react, tempers flared inside Townsville General Hospital.

"What the hell, Stanley?" Johns raged. "I thought we had a deal!"

"We did!" Whitfield shot back. He advanced on LeBeau. "Just what did you think you were going to accomplish with this little stunt? I thought I told you to clear out!"

"Doing my job, Stan, getting the facts, which this place doesn't seem capable of giving out."

Johns grabbed him by the collar with his bad hand, ready to pop him with the good one. "Why, you…!"

Whitfield stepped between them and Johns backed off. "If you'd give us a chance to digest what we're getting! This is a hospital, not a damned sleazy corporation for you to dig up dirt on!"

The four camera crewmen, a brotherhood of sorts though they worked for rival stations, were enjoying this. They'd moved together and two of them were surreptitiously taping it.

Santiago said something for the first time, stepping right up to Lebeau. "Do you know what is going to happen out there?" She waved her hand in the general direction of where she thought the front of the hospital was. "The people are going to panic! You have them believing that all of the girls will die when we do not know that! You idiot!"

Whitfield poked Lebeau in the chest. "Listen, Matt, this isn't a game we're playing here. We want the story, yeah, but not at the expense of hurting innocent bystanders. What you just did is the equivalent of shouting 'Fire!' in a crowded theater. Let us get the facts and see what they mean before we spit them out!"

"Hey, Stan, I hate to tell you this, but that's the old way of doing things. The people are smart enough to sort things out if we give it to them straight. They don't like having the truth kept from them."

"And what IS the truth, muchacho? What YOU decide it is?" Maria barked with a challenging stare.

Just then two tall security guards came through the door.

"Look, Stan, finish this discussion outside." Johns broke in. "I want him out of here, now!"

The men each gripped Lebeau by an arm and he shook them off. "Hey, all right, I'm going!"

"You're officially off this story!" Whitfield told him.

"Sure, Stan. See you later."

He disappeared through the doorway, the two guards right behind.

Whitfield turned to his crew. "Follow 'em out and get set up. We'd better get our spots now before every Tom, Dick and Geraldo show up." Santiago nodded for her crew to do the same, and the four walked out together.

Stanley looked at Johns. "Look, Tim, I had no idea he was still running around in here…"

Johns waved it off. "Forget it. Do what you can to keep things under control out there. Right now I'm more concerned with those three kids. Damn! This is the last damn thing they need!"

Maria laid a hand on his shoulder. "We will do what we can, Timothy. We are not ALL jackals, you know."

* * * * * * *

Outside the hospital, things happened quickly. All of the remaining press outlets, print, radio and TV, were in the process of getting staffers out to cover the story. The steps and sidewalk in front of the hospital would soon be filled with reporters angrily demanding they be allowed inside while security kept them out. The street would be full of their cars, and trucks containing video equipment, satellite dishes on top. Filming crews would jostle for position, their cameras aimed toward the main door and their respective news outlets' on-air personalities, who also jostled with each other to get the most advantageous spot. Of course, Whitfield and Santiago had already claimed prime real estate. Security had been told to protect them, and this angered their colleagues. They were assailed with shouts of, "Hey, Whitfield, what gives?", and worse.

CNC went into standard 'crisis' mode, bringing in one 'expert' after another to speculate on hearsay. Without exception, Townsville General's practices, both in their competence in treating patients and in dealing with the dissemination of the 'facts', were called into question. Of course, nobody knew what they were talking about, they were just filling airtime and generating big numbers to impress their advertisers, until such time as real information started coming in. Already, a montage of file photos of Bubbles had been put together, featuring a large one of just her smiling face. Superimposed over the top was 'Deathwatch' in black block letters, and this hastily assembled graphic, accompanied by somber music, was being used after commercial breaks.

The Mayor, shocked by the news about the girls, took immediate action. He called the chief of police and ordered him to send every man he had to the hospital, and the rest onto the streets to protect against looting. Fortunately, the chief had learned Mayorese some years earlier and already had things rolling.

All over Townsville, stunned and saddened citizens dropped whatever they were doing and tried to get to the hospital, resulting in massively snarled traffic. Frustrated motorists left their cars where they were and walked the rest of the way. Florists quickly sold out of whatever they had in stock. Businesses were closed down. Parents jammed school driveways and parking lots demanding to take their kids out of school. By 2:10, 30 minutes after the story broke, Jennifer Keane would be in her car, trying to get to Townsville General.

* * * * * * *

One 'citizen' in particular had watched the newscast in disbelief. Mojo Jojo, the prime nemesis of the girls, had spent the morning in his underground armory, fine-tuning the newest laser cannon in his often-rebuilt Robo-Jojo. Satisfied, he climbed the long staircase to his lair at the top of Volcano Mountain to have his lunch and watch his favorite soap opera on his favorite channel, KZIX. That was his channel of preferred viewing because it was the one that mentioned his name most often during its news programs.

When the interruption came, he was furious.

"Powerpuff Girls! Always they must interfere with my favorite television shows!"

Like everyone else in Townsville, he had grown accustomed to news reports of one or another of them being nicked up in a fight. Most of the time he didn't mind hearing about it because HE had been the one who had inflicted the damage, however trivial. But he was angry this time because he had nothing to do with it. The serious tone of the opening annoyed him, too.

"Oh, please. What is it now? 'Day six of our exclusive coverage of Buttercup's hangnail.' Wait a minute! That WOULD be news."

As he watched, though, his bemused annoyance turned to shock. Dr. Johns' somewhat indirect manner of communicating made perfect sense to him.

"What? Powerpuff Girl Bubbles' brain is being destroyed? Hmmm. That should not affect her ability to beat me senseless, as she seldom uses her brain when doing that. Oh! She is not expected to survive? That is different! That, I could tolerate. It would be better if I was the cause of her not recovering sufficiently to continue pestering me, but one must learn to appreciate the small things. Perhaps I can take advantage of this situation. The other two Powerpuffs will be in quite a state and unable to take their minds off of their sister's unfortunate demise, and I will be able to smash them! Hmmm. Maybe not. They may take their grief out on me and it is I who will be smashed instead. Oh, well, two Powerpuffs instead of three is still a good thing…I can worry about destroying the other two tomorrow."

LeBeau's ill-timed entrance shed a whole new light on the matter for him.

"Huh?! Autopsy? She is really going to perish and perhaps her accursed sisters, too?"

He leaped from his chair. "If I strike now, Blossom and Buttercup will be unable to withstand the force of my new, improved weaponry while they are dealing with the end of their blasted sister and their own suffering! They will be out of my hair for good and the world will at last be mine! Mohohohohohohahahahaa!"

* * * * * * *

Outside the hospital, the situation was nearing disaster. Thousands of people had already filled the street and more were arriving by the second. The police line was struggling to keep them all back from the sidewalk, but the sense of anger and frustration coming from the media was contagious. The crowd wanted information, too, and no one was being told anything. 

With nothing to say and nothing to film, the other crews could only aim their equipment at the two reporters who had been inside. They were the only ones who had spoken to a doctor. It was still the KZIX feed that millions were seeing. CNC's own crew had turned their cameras off in disgust. At the moment, Whitfield was interviewing a police captain, who was pleading with anyone who might still be in front of a TV in Townsville to please stay home. Santiago was talking to the chief of security, who had stepped out briefly to say that things were under control inside.

But what everyone wanted was medical information. Whitfield, in spite of his promise to try to keep things under control, had said all he could and needed new information himself. Nobody wanted to hear it relayed from a doctor to him. Before leaving, Stanley had wisely asked Johns for his cell phone number, and he pulled out his own cell phone.

"Hold on, Charles, I'm getting something from inside, I believe." he told the CNC anchor and the huge audience. He turned briefly away from the camera, pretending that he couldn't hear, so that he could speak to Johns. A small hand signal to his crew, unseen on-screen, had gotten them to dampen the audio briefly.

"Come on, answer the damn thing…come on…"

"Johns."

"Tim! Stanley. We're not having any luck out here and it's getting worse by the second. We've got to have something."

"Stan, there isn't a heck of a lot more that I can tell you. Blossom's-"

"Wait, Tim, no one wants to hear it from me. They want something official. I think it's not a good idea to try and get everyone inside, the way it is out here now. If you only just let me in, there'll be a riot." He meant amongst his colleagues. "You better come out and say something, anything, just to cool things down."

Johns sighed. "All right. Ten minutes."

He hung up and Whitfield turned to face his camera. The audio level went back up.

"What have you learned, Stan?" Wagner broke in.

"Charles, I've just been informed that the hospital spokesman, Dr. Timothy Johns, will be out here shortly, in about fifteen to twenty minutes, to update us on the girls' status."

Now, at least, the people would hear something. And by getting Johns to come out, that would placate the frustrated media. They all got busy making sure they were ready. The effect on the crowd was immediate and the police could relax a bit. Stanley's fib had bought Johns a few extra minutes so that the crowd wouldn't grow restless again if it took longer than the ten minutes. And if the doctor was on time, it would look to the crowd like the hospital WAS trying to be more cooperative. He breathed a small smile of relief, knowing the worst was still to come.

* * * * * * *

Matt Lebeau, after being shown the door by the security men, had quickly gotten lost in the crowd of several hundred that had already shown up. Unobserved, he made his way toward the west parking lot where his car was. When he got there, he reached into the back seat for his gym bag, quickly stripped off his tie and dress shirt and pulled on a plain gray T-shirt. He took off his black dress shoes and put on his running shoes. Then he pulled his briefcase from behind the passenger seat. He opened it up, flipped through some papers and found what he wanted. He pulled out a sheet, looked at it briefly, made a wry smile, then folded it and put it in his pants pocket. He closed the briefcase, put it back and locked the car. Then he made his way down the west side of the building, past the emergency entrance and to the rear wing.

During his morning rounds, he'd found two ground-level exit doors, the type with alarms that went off when opened from the inside, that were being worked on by an electrician. One was actually being worked on; the other, no one was there but wires were hanging from where the alarm box should have been on the wall near the ceiling, and LeBeau had given the door a quick test. There was no sign of a key mechanism anywhere and he figured that the electronics probably controlled the lock. When the alarm was disabled, the door was unlocked. He'd quickly confirmed that, too, by going outside and letting the door close behind him.

There was a good chance that door hadn't been fixed yet, and it was at the back side of the rear wing. He'd never be seen by anyone from the street. If the alarm did go off, he'd be lost in the sea of cars in the lot before anyone from security could get there. He walked up to the door and gently pulled on the handle, ready to run. Nothing. Inside, he saw the wires still dangling. He immediately went to the nearest elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. Security throughout the hospital may have been given his general description, but they'd be checking the areas where the girls were if they were checking at all. No one would look for him on the fifteenth floor.

He used the ride to look over his notes. The pediatric surgical staff consisted of five surgeons and twenty-four nurses. Of those nurses, six were male. He'd studied their facial features on the display, and while it didn't give any information on height and weight, it did list their ages. Three of the men had hair color fairly close to his own. None were over 31. He was sure he could pass for older than his 25. With the names and faces burned into his brain and his plan coming together, he left the elevator when it stopped. He looked both ways down the corridor. The nurses at the nearby station at the center of the wing paid him no mind, and he walked toward the other station in the interior, where the corridor met the main building. The elevator there would come out not far from the nurse's lounge on the third floor and a nearby janitor's closet. It would be the last time for that disguise.


	10. Ch 10

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -10-**

While the world first learned and was now waiting, things were happening inside the hospital. Bubbles had been returned to her original room and the only monitor she'd been hooked up to displayed her blood pressure, heart rhythm and heart and respiration rates. All had slowed further. The drainage tube had been removed and the collection bag was gone. Buttercup, Bellum and Waldman had walked in together past the guard that was still stationed there, and Waldman had done some quick checking. Bubbles' pupils were fixed and dilated and didn't respond to light. He told them he must be getting back to check on Blossom and Bellum stepped outside the room with him, to give Buttercup a few minutes alone. The guard moved away down the hall to give them privacy, keeping the room and both ends of the hallway in view, constantly moving his eyes as nurses, technicians and orderlies went about their duties.

"How long?" she asked simply.

Waldman shrugged. "I can't say. An hour? Quite frankly, she should have been gone…it's almost like she's waiting for something…"

Bellum sighed. "The girls always did seem to have an extra sense when it came to one another…she might be holding on…she might be more aware of things than we know. She could have heard Blossom screaming, even though she'd already been taken from here…she could have heard…she wants to know if Blossom's going to be OK."

Waldman blinked. "That IS all possible, with her hearing. There's so much about the brain that we just don't know…I'd better be going…if that's what she's holding on for, the sooner we can tell her something…"

Sara nodded and he left. Privacy was less an issue than earlier and she pulled out her cell phone to check up on the Mayor. It was just before LeBeau's bombshell would hit, and everything seemed to be under control.

* * * * * * *

There was definitely nothing wrong with Buttercup's hearing and she heard every word. While Sara talked with the mayor, she went to the bag in the corner and took Octi out, and tucked the doll under Bubbles' right arm. Then she gently climbed onto the bed and sat next to her sister. She took Bubbles' left hand and leaned down to speak quietly.

"Bubbles…I don't know if you can hear me…they think maybe you can…Bubbles, don't worry 'bout me an' Blossom. We're gonna be OK. We got the cancer too, but I think they can fix it. Thanks to you, Bubbles. You saved the day for us. They wouldn't know if it wasn't for you. It's OK, you don't hafta hang around for us no more if you don't wanna."

She couldn't fight it off anymore. She let go of Bubbles' hand and threw herself down next to her, taking her in a hug. "But I don't want you to go!"

As Sara finished the call, she heard the child break into sobs. She looked into the room and saw the small body shaking, and decided to wait until Buttercup cried herself out, her own heart breaking at the sight of it.

* * * * * * *

As the media circus was just beginning, things were getting underway in O.R. # 3. There was an elevated observation area that looked down into the operating room, through a large window with thick glass. It was used for medical students to watch and learn. Professor Utonium stood inches from the glass, nervously waiting, still dressed in the green scrubs they'd given him to put on when he'd been sterilized along with the gun, by briefly standing in an ionizing airbath just outside the O.R.. It wasn't customary to let a parent observe, but it was necessary for him to be there in case the team encountered any trouble with the gun. He watched as they lifted his daughter, already under anesthesia and with the contents of two drip bags running into her left arm, from the gurney into the center of the table. He felt helpless seeing the oxygen mask over her mouth. All of her long, beautiful tresses were gone, and her hair was in a buzz cut except for where her head had been shaved in the back.

He heard a noise and turned. It was Dr. Waldman, joining him to watch. They would be able to communicate with Dr. Vora and her surgical team below through flat microphones built into the wall in front of them. The speakers were in the ceiling above. He looked at the equipment arrayed around the operating room. The second set of drip bags, hanging from their rack and ready to go. The adult-sized oxygen mask. Both needed for when Blossom had been 'grown'. The cutting tools. The gun itself, lying on a steel table along the far wall. Everything sterile.

Dr. Vora came in through a door, all scrubbed, and slid her hands into gloves as one of her team held them out for her. She picked up the gun, looked it over once, then raised it. She looked up toward the observation window. The Professor gave her the thumbs up. Another nurse removed the IV from Blossom's arm, briefly applied pressure and then bandaged it. This had to go quickly. The anesthesiologist moved around behind the nurse, holding a needle, ready to inject the contents through a port into one of the new IV bags, in case Blossom needed a 'booster'.

The IV had to be changed, because when Blossom increased in size, so would everything, including the hole in her vein. The needle from the IV would stay the same size and fluids would mix with escaping blood. There'd be a big mess and unwanted delay. Once she was to the right size, the new IV hookup would be made and the procedure would begin.

Vora took careful aim. "I cannot believe I am doing this. Good thing for us all I am not Mojo Jojo."

* * * * * * *

Mojo Jojo checked the final readouts on his computer display inside the cockpit of his destroying machine. It was 2:10 and he was ready to go. He was unaware either that Blossom had been in surgery for fifteen minutes, or of the situation he would find outside the hospital when he got there. He would find that very much to his liking. He pushed the button controlling the massive doors to his underground facility and they opened, flooding the compartment with light. The robot lifted out and he blasted away as the doors began to shut.

* * * * * * *

This janitor's closet was larger than the others, and it had a cart instead of just a pail. The cart held a bucket and mop, bottles of cleaning fluids, rags, a trash receptacle and one of those plastic triangular 'wet floor' warnings. In the janitor getup for the last time, LeBeau took his cart into the third-floor nurse's lounge. These lounges were scattered throughout the hospital. This one served the staff on the third floor from the rear wing's two nurse's stations, and the surgical team from pediatrics, one floor down, as there wasn't room for one down there. There was a woman, dressed in blue, sitting at a table eating a sandwich and drinking a soda from the rows of vending machines along one wall. She was reading a magazine and glanced up for a second, then went back to her reading. There was the one long table surrounded by molded plastic chairs, and the counter held a microwave oven. Off of this room, there was a smaller room with two couches and some upholstered chairs, a beat-up TV set, and more magazines tossed on the two tables, one in the center and one between two chairs. In spite of who these people were, there were a couple of ashtrays with a few cigarette butts in them. Off of this room, on opposite sides of it, were the entrances to the men's and ladies' rooms, each with lockers. LeBeau went in the men's, and proceeded to spill about half the contents of his pail onto the floor near the lockers. He took one of the spray bottles, which he had filled with water, and set the sprayer to its fullest stream, then squirted it at the ceiling above until the bottle was empty. Water dripped down into the puddle he'd made, and some dripped on the lockers. Then he went back out to the main area, where a clipboard hung on a bulletin board. There were notices for upcoming continuing-ed classes, a union meeting, a couple of cars for sale, etc. The clipboard, he was hoping, would contain a copy of the week's duty rosters that he knew would be kept at the stations themselves, but he'd have no way of getting to those. He lifted it off the peg, and sure enough, there they were, for the pediatric wing, the pediatric surgery department, and the third floor. He pulled the sheet from his pocket that he'd gotten from his briefcase and clipped it on top, then studied the roster for the surgery department.

The nurses in the other departments worked eight-hour shifts. The surgical staff were scheduled in twelve-hour blocks, but LeBeau knew that was flexible. They'd stay longer if an operation ran over. What he was looking for was the days off for the surgical nurses, in particular the names he'd committed to memory, the six men. Two of them were off, Peter Ferrara until six that night, and the other, Mark Tomlinson, was not scheduled until tomorrow morning, Friday, at six. Both, luckily, were in the group of three where he might pass for them in a set of scrubs. He wanted the surgical staff, because he felt he would have an easier time passing himself off in the pediatric wing, where he was sure Bubbles was. A surgical nurse probably wouldn't be questioned back there, and in a place this big, might not be known well enough by the regular staff in that department to be able to tell that he was an impostor. He figured it wouldn't help him get much info on the other two Powerpuffs. He'd for sure be recognized by one of the co-workers of the person whose clothes he was wearing, and a blue-clad nurse from one of the other areas wouldn't normally be back there in surgery, either. He'd give it a quick try, but his main goal was to get back to Bubbles' room. When her death came, the hospital would sit on it for a while, he believed. He'd take care of that.

He heard two voices coming his way and started to hang up the clipboard. Two men in the blue scrubs came in.

"Hey, what are you doing?" one of them said.

LeBeau pointed at the clipboard, which was swinging slightly, and smiled.

"Just reading that."

The sheet he'd clipped on there was one of those office jokes that were always floating around, one he'd saved from the newsroom back at the station. It was one of the best he'd ever seen.

The two read it and broke out laughing. "Ha, that's beautiful!" the one who hadn't challenged him said.

"Yeah," the first one said, looking at him again, "but what are you doing in here? You guys only come around at night."

LeBeau thumbed toward the locker room. "Fourth floor toilet overflowed."

They looked at each other and took off. "Crap!"

He followed them in and they saw water dripping from the ceiling.

"Aw, geez." the first one said.

"Hey, at least it's not OUR lockers." the other replied.

LeBeau took out his mop. "You guys might want to let folks know to go somewhere else until I get the place disinfected."

"Yeah, we'll do that." the first said, shaking his head as they turned and walked out. "Stinkin' place is fallin' apart…"

LeBeau leaned the mop against the nearest locker and took the 'Wet Floor' warning from the cart and put it just outside the locker room. Then he searched for Ferrara's and Tomlinson's lockers. With them being gone and their street clothes and valuables not inside, maybe they'd be unlocked. Tomlinson's was, and a green scrub top with his name on it hung from a hook. He quickly slipped it on over his head. Way too big. Tomlinson had to be over six foot. He took it off and put it back. He found Ferrara's locker. Locked.

"Nuts!"

He snapped his fingers._ "Dirty clothes hamper!" _He looked around. _"Yeah, over there!"_

In a corner stood a metal frame with a canvas sack stretched over it. A minute and twenty pieces of dirty clothing later, he found a top with 'P. Ferrara' stitched on the left breast. It was just a tad loose. Ferrara must be an inch or so taller than LeBeau. But it was so wrinkled he couldn't use it. That was all right, he knew where the linens were kept. As long as he was out of the place before Ferrara came on at six…

* * * * * * *

At precisely the instant Mojo Jojo's robot lifted off, Dr. Johns came through the front doors of Townsville General Hospital, right on time. He made his way directly to the small podium that had been brought out from storage in the media center. A hospital logo on a canvas banner hung on the front. The crowd hushed immediately to hear what he had to say, and CNC's 'experts' all went silent as well. The world was waiting. He adjusted the microphone. Strobes began to flash and the sounds of the cameras' high-speed film advancers mixed with his words.

"Good afternoon. I have a brief update. Bubbles' condition has changed slightly for the worse and I regret to say that it is terminal."

This brought a gasp from much of the crowd, those who had failed to understand the gravity of the situation from his statement a half hour earlier.

"We may not ever know the cause, but unlike the unfortunate incident you all witnessed when one of those media cowboys got loose in our facility…"

His outrage was clearly visible, and it was shared by much of the crowd. They didn't really care for the way they'd learned about it.

"…we cannot conclusively say at this time that it is in fact cancer. Bubbles was treated for growths in her brain, which proved to be too far advanced to treat effectively, but results of a biopsy taken last evening will not be available until later today. In the meantime, routine tests of Blossom and Buttercup showed the presence of similar growths…"

Amother gasp. "…though they are much less pronounced, and we believe, treatable. Blossom's condition is believed to be at a stage about two weeks behind that of Bubbles. She is in surgery at this moment and we think she stands an excellent chance at a full recovery. Buttercup's condition is at a stage one to two weeks behind Blossom's and she has experienced no symptoms of illness. She has not been admitted to the hospital and is free to leave at any time."

At this, a cheer went up.

"I will briefly answer questions. Stanley?"

"When can we expect to know the outcome of Blossom's surgery?"

__

"Thank you, Stan." Johns breathed a sigh of relief. The answer, which would be truthful, would place a sort of hold on things and perhaps get everyone in the crowd, if not the media, to realize that they must all be patient. He knew he could count on Whitfield, which was why he turned to him first.

"It is a difficult, though not especially dangerous procedure, and should last four to five hours. We won't be able to give her any tests until tomorrow morning at the earliest. We will update you again when the surgery is over, on her condition at that time. Maria?"

"Yes, will you be making an announcement regarding Bubbles?"

"Yes, after the family has had an appropriate amount of time to be with her, an announcement will be made. At this time, Professor Utonium is assisting the surgical team and cannot be with her. That is all right now."

A loud grumble went up from the contingent of press, and some shouted out questions that wouldn't be answered. But the crowd had been soothed if not cheered up. They saw through the ambiguity of the statement to its sad truth. There was nothing that could be done for the little girl inside except to pray for her in her transition to the next world. Many began to weep. But the anger and tension were lifted in a wave that was almost a visible thing. It was replaced by a cloud of sadness, as they stood waiting for the news that would inevitably come.

The CNC gang cut short its endless speculation to run a hastily pieced-together account of the lives of the Powerpuff Girls, focusing on the one who they talked about as if she was already dead. The phrase 'She was' was used often. The deathwatch went on as the ratings continued to climb.


	11. Ch 11

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -11-**

At 2:15, exactly the same moment that Johns finished his short statement, Professor Utonium could hear the quiet hissing of the oxygen that Blossom was being fed, the steady, intermittent low beeping from the monitors as they indicated all was going smoothly, the soft exchange of instructions from Dr. Vora to the team, and their replies to her questions regarding a reading here or there. Occasionally she would make a comment to him, explaining what she was doing, and he would nod silently. He kept his detached scientist's mien, pushing his feelings down. It was disturbing to a parent to see his child's head wrapped , leaving only a patch of scalp, which was then cut and peeled away, revealing bone which then underwent the sawblade. It was also very strange to see her suddenly three times her normal size. Though her head was already as large as an adult's, it was now enormous. But the scientist watched, committing what he saw to memory. Waldman would also say something from time to time, but he would again just nod.

He watched as the section of bone was carefully lifted away and placed on a sterile tray, which would be covered by a sterile lid. In spite of her size now, he couldn't make out clearly details in the brain tissue beneath, so he turned to the monitor in the observation room. Ceiling-mounted cameras filmed and taped the procedure from three angles. The surgeon could call up any angle with a voice command, and it would be displayed on a monitor in the operating room, as well as the one upstairs.

He heard Vora say, "Aside from some swelling, which is from the increased internal pressure, this tissue looks quite normal." She looked at her team and said, "Shall we begin?"

She gave some instructions, then took a scalpel from one of the nurses. "I will be using a laser to remove the growth, but I will be getting started with a scalpel." She slowly reached toward Blossom's exposed tissue to penetrate the outer membrane.

Professor Utonium watched in horror as a gigantic blue spark shot forth from his daughter's head and her eyes flew open. Her body lifted inches off the bed before falling, and she screamed. The scalpel flew from the surgeon's hand as she was knocked onto her backside and slid, crashing into the table on which the gun lay. It fell to the floor with a loud metallic sound.

"What are you doing to her?!" he yelled, heading for the door to get out and go down there. 

Waldman, no less shocked, was slightly taller and grabbed him in a bear hug. "No! You can't go in there." _"What the hell just happened?"_ he asked himself. He got the distraught Professor to sit. "Are you all right down there?" he called out.

Vora was being assisted to her feet by one of her team, while the others, though startled, professionally went about checking on their patient. "Yes, I'm fine. What about our patient, what are her signs?"

"Vitals are returning to normal." one nurse said.

The anesthesiologist carefully checked a reading. "The pain was enough to get a reaction, but she is still out. I don't want to give her any more."

"I have never seen anything like this." Vora said. "It is like she doesn't want me to touch her."

The Professor reacted to that. "Yes. YES! It may be her body's natural defenses! I think I know how to get around that…Doctor, can you administer a beta-blocker while she is under? I think that will suppress her ability to fight an intruder."

"Why, yes, Professor, I believe so. It may take from thirty minutes to an hour to take effect."

"Go ahead, Doctor. If it doesn't work, then I think it isn't something naturally occurring, and that someone or something has done this to my girls…meaning you won't be able to stop it." he said. "And I'll find out who if it's the last thing I do!"

* * * * * * *

Jennifer Keane didn't get far from school before she ran into snarled traffic. Frustrated and frantic to get to the hospital, all she could do was turn on the radio. She wondered what had caused this. Within minutes, she knew as much as anyone, and it made her even more desperate to get there.

__

"Oh, dear God, not all THREE of them!"

She also learned the reason for the jam. On a talk station, people were turning their anger and grief toward someone who made a perfect scapegoat: Matt LeBeau.

"That jerk! Why'd he have to do that for?"

"If I see that * bleeeep * anywhere, I'll * bleeeeeeep * shoot him!

"Heh, thank goodness for the seven-second delay." the host muttered, "Even though I agree with you, and I'm a member of the media myself. There was absolutely no call for what that guy did. Next caller."

"Channel Five oughta fire that Low Blow!"

The name quickly stuck. And Jennifer Keane was now one of those that wanted to throttle him.

* * * * * * *

Though LeBeau had been on the air, it was only very briefly; and CNC hadn't replayed the footage. They hadn't needed to; his blurted question had rocked the world and needed no repeating. And with his instantly forgettable face, he needn't have worried about being spotted. Unaware of the anger that inspired the new nickname he was also unaware of, he made his way unmolested by passing security men and unnoticed by anyone else, down the hallway, in the fresh green scrubs with 'P. Ferrara' on the left breast. He entered the pediatric wing and passed both nurse's stations unnoticed on his way to room 225. He'd have been shocked to learn that the people didn't agree that they ought to know everything.

* * * * * * *

At also the same time as Johns was finishing up and her teacher had gotten stuck in traffic, Buttercup had since cried herself out and was talking to Bubbles quietly. Sara Bellum remained outside, listening. She heard the tough little girl trying to apologize for, as she put it, 'being mean to you'. That she never meant it when she called her sister 'dummy'.

"Heck, Bubbles, you're prob'ly smarter than I'll ever be. Remember that time we both were so stuck on doing things our way even though it didn't work, and you just went up to that monster and asked it to go home? Blossom'd never say that you were smarter'n her, but I know she's sorry for stuff she said to you, too. We both are. We just can't help it 'cause as much as we're all alike we're different, too. I wish I could see things the way you do. I think if I did, I wouldn't get mad all the time over stupid stuff. Like those posters of mine. What a dumb thing to get mad about. And y'know, after, I thought that Mankind looked cool with a purple mustache, even if you did draw it on the outside of his mask."

Sara listened to Buttercup rambling her sweet, random thoughts and it made her smile and killed her at the same time. Townsville would never be the same.


	12. Ch 12

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -12-**

Mojo Jojo had circled high over Townsville from afar for ten minutes, thinking about what to do. He was high enough up to not be noticed as anything more than an aircraft circling in a holding pattern, waiting to be cleared to land by the airport flight controller. He took in all the information he could and his super-brain processed it. The crowd growing down below, which he'd observed close-up via the telescope his robot was equipped with. Perfect. What better way to tell Townsville that they would soon all be bowing down to him, than with a ready-made audience like that? The newscast of the hospital mouthpiece's speech. Even better. Now he knew for certain that Bubbles was about to become part of history and that Blossom, in surgery for hours to come, would be out of commission. That left only Buttercup. The best in battle against him, but no match for his brilliant strategizing; and without Blossom to direct her, he would finish her in no time. All he had to do was lure her out, and that would be easy. An indirect attack on the hospital, perhaps the parking lot, ought to do it. Then, with her out of the way, he could simply walk in and dispatch Blossom as she lay unaware on the operating table, and Bubbles, too, if she hadn't already done it on her own. He wanted to avoid damaging the hospital if he could, because soon it would be his, along with everything else in Townsville. No sense in ruining the place that would finally give him the medical attention a genius like himself deserved. No more veterinarian. Just thinking about how that guy was going to retire early just on services provided to Mojo Jojo angered him. He was ready to begin the first step in his future, and the last in the Powerpuffs'. He banked his Robo-Jojo at an angle and sped directly for the center of town. 

On the ground, police had set up a shrine of sorts off to one side. Someone had brought a very large poster of Bubbles in a sturdy frame and it was leaning against a concrete barrier. People had been allowed to form a double line and walk up to it so they could place their bunches of flowers or stuffed animals, pictures, or whatever small mementos they had brought with them, at the base of it. The ground was soon covered. People branched off to either side and made their way back into the crowd.

They saw him before they heard him.

"Look, what's that?"

Thousands turned their heads. Millions around the world heard Charles Wagner interrupt the current discussion with an announcement of something major coming, and braced for the news they dreaded, that Bubbles was gone. Instead, their screens were filled with a shot of Mojo Jojo's robot hovering in the sky.

"Charles, it appears that the evil Mojo Jojo has seen fit to take this opportunity to rub salt in the wounds of an already devastated city." Stanley Whitfield said into his microphone. CNC had stayed with the KZIX feed rather than switching to their own crew, and it was a good thing, as they were about to find out.

"Oh, shut up, you accursed reporter!" Mojo said loudly, his voice being amplified over the sound system in his robot. His voice struck terror into the crowd, but not as much as the beams that shot out, blowing up every truck with an antennae or satellite dish on its roof. KZIX' and the one belonging to Santiago's KCMC crew were out back and the only ones still able to transmit. CNC, of course, stayed live.

"I am watching you, Stanley!" Mojo drawled, "and I know where YOUR truck is parked. You will all shut up and do nothing but take pictures! Only the voice of Mojo Jojo shall be heard and the whole world will know of my genius and quake at my power! Your pathetic protectors have headaches and will be unable to stop me! Oh, Bubbles has a really bad one, or so I am told by my favorite reporter in the whole universe, that what's his name running around inside the hospital! Maybe when I rule the world, I will give him YOUR job, Stanley! Muahahahaa!! As it is he who provided this opportunity, for had I not known I would still be at home, not knowing the information that he has provided to me!"

This was met by a huge chorus of boos from the crowd, many who had carried radios and were hearing the same things Ms. Keane had heard. They were rewarded with several laser blasts, which tore up the ground and sent bodies flying. Many broke and ran. There was nothing any of the police could do. They tried, drawing their service revolvers and uselessly firing them at the robot. They were met with more blasts and Mojo's maniacal laughter. Panic was setting in. All the two remaining live film crews could do was silently record the chaos, along with the terrified screaming. For some reason, not Wagner or anyone else at CNC said a word.

"That is very good, Charles." Mojo said. "I am watching you, too! Oh yes, and before I forget, NO ACCURSED COMMERCIALS!"

* * * * * * *

Buttercup jumped off the bed. "What was that?!"

Sara ran into the room. Seconds later, the security guard ran in holding his radio to his ear as it squawked loudly. "Mojo Jojo's attacking! He heard that reporter guy say something on TV!" He disappeared down the hall toward the front of the building.

Up and down the hall could be heard the screaming of the frightened children in the ward. Some kids jumped out of their beds. Those parents that were present reacted in much the same way. Nurses scurried to calm everyone as best they could. 

This was being repeated all over the hospital. Normally, this wouldn't have happened. Monster attacks, and even Mojo's outbursts, were routine, and hospital dwellers took it all in stride, knowing the Powerpuffs would end it quickly. But most rooms had televisions, and word had spread throughout the hospital about the girls. Seeing the cause of the explosions they were hearing threw the place into a panic.

Neither Sara nor Buttercup had seen any TV at all, and were clueless until that second. Buttercup exploded. "Why, that dirty ape! This time, I'm really gonna take him apart! Then I'll take care of that lousy Stanley!"

She knew nothing about LeBeau. Realizing what might happen, she went back to her sister and gave her what she was afraid would be her final hug, and a kiss. "Bubbles, I gotta go stop Mojo. Please promise me you'll still be here when I get back? Oh, I wish you were goin' out there with me!"

Sara's cell phone beeped and she grabbed it out of her purse. "Ms. Bellum, save me!" came the mayor's panicked voice.

"I have to go, too!" she said. "Please be careful out there!"

As she floated there, the little girl eyed Sara grimly. "I can't afford to be careful, Ms. Bellum." She looked back at Bubbles. "Octi, you take care of her 'til I get back!" Then she was gone, down the hall toward the rear stairwell. In her head she heard her sister's voice, just like Blossom had heard it earlier. 

__

"I'll be there with you, Buttercup. _I'll always be with you."_

She had to wipe tears from her eyes to see where she was going as she blew the first floor exit door off its hinges and the alarm sounded.

Sara didn't have time to consider what Buttercup meant by her remark. She dialed the police chief. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the numbers on the monitor had all gotten smaller. She hated to leave now but she had to."Chief, Sara Bellum. I've got to get back. From the sound of things, I can't get out of here." 

"Yeah, that LeBeau guy who's been runnin' loose down there blabbed on TV about all the girls bein' sick, and that no-good monkey saw it. He's outside blastin' away. You run into that guy while you're down there? I'd like to lock him up for bein' a jerk!"

"I don't know what you mean, chief, and I don't have time! Is there anything you can do to get me out of here?"

"Yeah, Sara, head for the roof. We'll send a chopper for ya'"

* * * * * * *

LeBeau heard the explosions and then saw the green streak coming at him. He ducked to get out of the way and watched the streak disappear into the stairwell at the end of the hall, then he heard the crash and the alarm. He knew it was Buttercup, but had no idea what was going on. He was tempted to call Stanley again, but thought better of it. No one knew he was here and besides, it would be obvious to anyone outside that Buttercup had left the building. He was going to be with Bubbles when she 'left the building', if he could, and break it to the world.

He saw the mayor's assistant come out of the room and hurry away from him. He also saw no guard outside the room. That was great. Whatever was going on outside was big. What a time for a monster to show up. 

"Ms. Bellum!" She stopped and turned. "Dr. Peter Ferrara. I'm with Blossom's team."

"How is she?"

He had no clue. "They took her in a short time ago, and so far, so good. I was off today and they brought me in for backup, but everything's green so they asked me to come down here. What's going on, do you know?"

"Oh, I'm so glad! Now she won't be alone!"

"Why, what's happened? I just saw Buttercup…" he indicated off in the direction she'd gone.

"Mojo Jojo is outside right now, all because of some damned big-mouth reporter, and I must get back to my office!"

She turned and ran. He watched her go, confused. She wasn't talking about him, was she? Mojo was attacking the hospital because of him? Nah. 

He went inside the room. It was eerily silent. He looked at the girl lying there, sleeping, it looked to him, very peacefully. He knew from experience that the disease she had was a very unpleasant way to go and suspected that she was heavily medicated. He could hear her faint breathing and the beeping of the monitor, which showed her blood pressure at 40/50, her heart rate at 22 and her respiration at 11. Those, he knew, were all terrible numbers. What he didn't know was that they had all dropped immediately after all the excitement began and Buttercup had left. A loud noise startled him and he jumped. He relaxed as he realized it was the automatic BP cuff attached to Bubbles' leg, taking another periodic reading. After it finished, the new reading appeared on the monitor. 34/42. It was dropping rapidly. She was going. He suddenly didn't want to be alone in there with her.

* * * * * * *

The first things that caught Buttercup's attention were the smells of ozone from the laser blasts singeing the air and the acrid smoke from the burning vehicles on the street. She could hear the mayhem out there but didn't see Mojo yet. She flew upward at a sharp angle in the opposite direction away from the hospital, intending to soar over downtown and circle back around, giving her a panoramic view and a way to visualize her attack plan. But before she got much higher than the rooftop of the rear wing, a blast nailed her. Mojo had been waiting to pick her off.

The beam stunned her but she was able to zig-zag away toward a line of trees that lined the rear of the hospital property. That got Mojo into her full view, and she turned to see no damage to the hospital itself, as far as she could tell, or any other buildings. He began to approach her, stopping a hundred yards from her, hovering directly over the hospital.

"Well, Powerpuff! You have kept Mojo waiting long enough! What were you doing in there, getting your prescription filled?"

__

"Well, if it's me he wants, it's me he's gonna get! But I wanna get him as far away from here as I can, 'cause that's what he's after, the girls."

The best place, obviously, would be in the countryside away from Townsville. She rapidly rubbed her hands together to create an energy beam while at the same time, powering up her eyes. She let rip.

"No, I got YOUR prescription filled! Take two o' these and don't call me, ever!"

She figured they wouldn't do too much damage, but it gave her the time she wanted.

"Come and get me, monkey-boy!" She dashed to her right, cutting behind the trees. A few beams shot out from behind her, taking the tops off, but when she had gotten a half-mile away, she noticed that he wasn't following. Instead, he had gone back to the front and was firing upon the crowd.

"Rats! He's not buying it! He's gonna make me fight him right there!"

Angrily, she streaked down and picked up the hulk of a ruined TV truck. It was still burning, thick black smoke billowing into the sky, but she ignored it. With a war-cry, she charged Mojo. He expected her to fling it at him and fired three bursts, but she neatly dodged them and plowed, truck and all, into the side of the robot. On the ground, people scattered to avoid the burning debris coming at them. Her momentum carried them a thousand feet sideways, three hundred feet above the ground. The smoke blinded him and he couldn't tell where or at what they were headed, so he punched a few buttons on his console. The computer instantly determined their velocity, accelerated away from her, then reversed course suddenly. The smoke blinded her, too, and she never saw what was coming.

The entire sequence had taken merely thirty seconds, from the time Mojo fired his first blast into her, until the stunned onlookers below saw the missile dropping straight down from the smoky mass above. The missile was Buttercup, temporarily unconscious, and she hit the street, throwing up a gigantic cloud of dust, dirt and macadam chunks. She came to rest thirty feet below the surface, on a large water pipe that broke with the force of her fall. The crowd saw a geyser shoot skyward through the dust cloud, and ran to get away from the sudden mudshower. Mojo lowered his robot down toward the crater.

"Muahahahahaaa!! You better not try that again, Powerpuff! I see what you are trying to do, lure me away to protect your helpless siblings. But it will not work because it is a useless strategy and doomed to fail, for every time you attempt to take me away from here, I will simply not follow you and instead attack the hospital! Then I will finish you. Engage me and I will spare the hospital after I have destroyed you and what is left of your sisters! What do you have to say to that?"

There was no need for commentary from Whitfield, Santiago or any of the talking heads back at CNC. The cameras said everything that needed to be said. The whole world watched in silence the drama before them.

The falling filthy water brought her around and she tried to think of some way to fight back. She rolled off of the damaged pipe and cut a five-foot long section from one end of the eighteen-inch diameter water main. She now had herself a weapon. Obscured from his view by the geyser, she floated out, holding the club behind her back. Though it was twice as long as she stood tall, he wouldn't see it in time.

"I repeat, Powerpuff, what do you say?"

"I say this is a hospital zone, bigmouth! PIPE DOWN!" 

She brought it down with all her might across the top of the robot's thick, domed plastishield. The craft was undamaged but the force knocked him nearly to the street. People ran to avoid being crushed. Mojo temporarily lost attitude control and the robot spun crazily in a circle before it righted itself. She flew up to it and gave one of the legs a good whack with the pipe. The duranium-covered steel had no give and the shock reverberated back through her hands, up her arms and to her shoulders. She shrieked with pain and dropped the pipe. It fell toward a group of firefighters who were dousing one of the many burning vehicles. They heard the yelling to 'Look out!' and ran out of the way just before it smashed through the roof of their pumper.

Fully recovered, Mojo saw the fire truck plus the cascading water from the broken main and got an idea. He decided to give his tuned-up laser a test and give her a full-strength shot, unlike the wake-up call he had given her earlier. It blew her right out of the sky, back into a thirty-story office tower two blocks away. Again, she fell into the street, but not before bouncing off of a shorter building on the way down. It broke her fall enough to keep her from making another crater. As Mojo moved toward her, eyeing his next targets and getting a computer-generated firing sequence set, she tried to get up.

__

"Unnnh, oh man, he's been working on that thing! I won't be able to take too many of those!"

As she got to one knee, she saw the laser's turret bearing down on her and she made a diving roll away from it. The first blast turned a manhole into a gaping hole in the street, four times its size, and the debris fell into the yawning sewer below. The second caught her in the ribs and she screamed and blacked out. After what seemed like an eternity to her, she woke to a thunderous rumbling. During the half-minute she lay helpless, Mojo's second step went into motion. A rapid, programmed sequence of beams sliced off the street-side valves of over twenty fire hydrants, creating an instant flood. The open hole was the natural outlet for all that water and it would create a whirlpool with incredible suction. What Buttercup heard was a giant wave of water crashing toward her, and she shook off the cobwebs and tried to fly. The wave caught her and carried her past the hole, slamming her into the side of a brick building. She was thrown back toward the street. The first wave was over and the water level in the street equalized, causing the drainage to begin. Aware that she was being caught in the whirlpool but too weakened to escape it, she determined to grab the sides of the hole if she could and hang on long enough to get her strength back. With the weight of tons of water swirling around her, she clung to the jagged edges where the cover was blown away. She heard the robot above her and looked up to see Mojo's wide grin as it lowered down to just thirty feet from her. He was wise enough to stay out of her immediate striking distance.

"Well, Buttercup, this is what I call irony! Your sisters are circling the drain at the same time you are about to go down it! Mohohohoahahahahaa!!!"

A beam shot out and cracked the section of street she was holding. Down she went, and hundreds of thousands of gallons of water crashed upon her, sweeping her away.


	13. Ch 13

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -13-**

Jennifer Keane was at her wits' end. She hadn't moved three car lengths in ten minutes. The news reports on the radio only made her more frantic. Buttercup was out there all by herself, taking on that despicable creature. There was no report on Blossom's condition, but she knew what it would be if Buttercup failed. She leaned on the horn again. The guy in front of her looked in his rearview mirror and indicated that she was Number One. That was it. She'd had enough of this; she was going to do what many others had done, walk. Even though she was three miles from downtown and it would take almost an hour, she didn't care. She grabbed her purse off the seat, got out and slammed the door, locking it. She gave the obnoxious motorist a scowl as she stormed past his car. 

She no longer cared what was causing the backup, but she found out anyway. At the end of a two-minute walk, she came in sight of the intersection of the street she was on and the one that led, two blocks south, to the main thoroughfare out of Pokey Oaks. It was gridlock there, and probably everywhere. She only hoped her car wasn't on cement blocks when she got back to it. That's when she saw the blue-clad arm and heard the whistle. A traffic cop, but a police officer just the same. She ran the remaining thousand feet.

"Officer! Officer! Help!" She could hear the voices coming over the radio in his squad car, which sat on the sidewalk.

The burly cop turned, annoyed and red in the face. He was powerless to do anything, nobody was going anywhere; and he was there basically to prevent fistfights."Yeah, whaddaya want, lady?" He froze. "Hey, aren't you that kindergarten teacher? I seen you on TV!"

"Yes! Yes, I'm Jennifer Keane, the girls' teacher! I need to get to the hospit-"

He waved for her to follow, and ran to his car. He leaned in and pulled out the mouthpiece. "Car 352 to central."

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Hey, Bob, that bird take off yet?"

"Not yet."

"Great. Patch me through, I got the kids' teacher here and she needs a lift."

"You got it. Out."

She looked to the sky. _"Oh, thank you, THANK YOU!"_

Twelve minutes later, she was exchanging a quick embrace with Sara Bellum on the roof of Townsville General. Then Bellum was off to Townsville Hall and she was being led by a security guard to Bubbles' room.

* * * * * * *

Whitfield didn't like anything to do with this situation but he no longer had any choice. Mojo was getting the attention he wanted and the veteran newsman would have liked nothing better than to pull the plug. But he feared the reaction might be the same as what Mojo had threatened if Buttercup tried to take the fight elsewhere: A direct attack on the hospital itself. He hated seeing the little girl battling valiantly, struggling to delay the inevitable, for this couldn't end any other way. But what he despised most of all, at this moment, was his profession. Things had changed since he was a green rookie thirty years ago. A new breed had taken over. Don't just report the story, be a part of it. Make something happen because the 24/7 TV news industry needed product to fill up all those hours. It had gone from being one of relaying vital information to the local community to just another branch of the entertainment business. For the companies, the bigger the story, the bigger the profits. For the individuals, more airtime, more face time, more recognition…and all the trappings that went with success. It resulted in people like LeBeau, in the business for the wrong reason. It was a shame, too, because the kid obviously had talent. It wasn't LeBeau's fault the Powerpuff Girls were ill; that Bubbles was dying and that Blossom was fighting for her life on the operating table. But that Whitfield was witnessing what could be Buttercup's final moments, taking on her evil opponent when she belonged with her family, and whatever else might result from Mojo's actions today; it all could be laid squarely on that young man's shoulders, and on the industry that produced people like him.

But the cat was out of the bag, now. There was no going back and what was happening now, there was no good reason to not show it. Channel Five and the other TV stations in town had gotten film crews in the air, and aerial shots of the disaster on the ground were being relayed to the stations. There was no further need for the ground crews of those who'd had their equipment destroyed by Mojo's blasts, so they got away from there as fast as they could, with a growing number of panicked citizens joining them, attempting to flee the rising flood waters. Whitfield's and Santiago's crews were the only ones getting ground-level shots, and Whitfield's were still feeding to CNC, which ran it along with its own aerial coverage. 

Stanley watched them as they scrambled to film what they could. All around him were screaming, running people, smoking hulks of cars and trucks, flashing lights, sirens, chaos. He'd been trained to stay cool no matter what was happening and was glad for the training, because he'd seen some very bad things before. Yet the girls had always found a way out of trouble. This time, though….as the wave swept Buttercup along until she could no longer be seen, out of the corner of his eye he saw the look of fear on Maria's face, a face that belonged to someone else well-trained. He wondered where LeBeau had gone after leaving the hospital, and if he had any clue yet about what he'd caused. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number to LeBeau's phone. It was never answered.

__

"Now, where the hell is he? He'd better not have gone back in there!"

* * * * * * *

Of course, Whitfield didn't know that LeBeau had gone back inside and would have been even more furious if he did. But LeBeau was about to get a clue. Finding it uncomfortable to stand there alone in Bubbles' room, he started to walk down the hallway, looking for an empty room to duck into so he could observe from there. She couldn't have much longer, and SOMEONE from the staff would be there with her. He'd go back then and probably not be noticed. 

His cell phone rang. It had to be Whitfield. He pulled it out of his pocket, silenced it and put it back. He felt a slight shudder and heard a muffled explosion a second later. The crying and yelling of the other kids in the wing increased dramatically. A boy of about six, in a hospital gown, ran in terror out of a room and down the hall away from him. Lights above doors flashed off and on and he saw two female nurses in blue coming toward him from their station. They stopped the boy and one picked him up. They hurried in LeBeau's direction. Another nurse ran from a room and he saw that light go out as the woman entered a room across the hall. Behind him, he heard more sounds and turned and saw more chaos. He had to confirm what he'd heard, that Mojo was the cause of all of this.

He hurried up to the nurses carrying the boy, deciding to stick with the 'Doctor Ferrara' he'd given Bellum. They would probably not know the difference, since they and the surgical nurse were from two different departments.

"I'm Doctor Ferrara. What's going on?"

The one holding the boy, a tall, willowy blonde of around forty with a plastic tag, that read 'S. Fuller', clipped to her smock instead of having her name stitched on, said, "You don't know?" 

"No. I'm with Dr. Vora's team. She's in with Blossom right now and I came up to check on Bubbles."

"Oh!" cried the other one, a much shorter and younger brunette whose tag read 'D. Sanchez'. "How is she?"

The boy, hearing the 'doctor' say those two names, was impressed into shutting up and his mouth fell open. Fuller said, "I'll be right back." and took the boy to his room.

LeBeau answered Sanchez' question. "Blossom? Too soon to know. Bubbles…" He shook his head. "What's happening and what can I do to help?"

Fuller reappeared. LeBeau noticed that she had a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Sanchez said, "You heard about that jackass from Channel Five who snuck in here today?"

__

"Yeah, that's the second time I've heard that. What'd I do?"

"No. What'd he do?"

"Told Mojo Jojo that the girls all have cancer. We're still not even sure what they've got, but Buttercup's out there right now trying to stop that…that THING, and if she can't, he'll march in here and…and…" Sanchez couldn't go on, putting her hands to her face and bursting into tears.

__

"But how is that MY fault? If it had been a monster, Buttercup would still be the only one who could fight it…what I said doesn't change the facts." He started to explain that to them, saying 'this reporter' instead of 'I'. 

Fuller broke in. "Yeah, except that Mojo gave this 'Low Blow' full credit for his being here, now. I remember EXACTLY what that ape said!" Giving her best Mojo impersonation, she said, "Your pathetic protectors have headaches and will be unable to stop me! Oh, Bubbles has a really bad one, or so I am told by my favorite reporter in the whole universe, that what's his name running around inside the hospital!"

She added , "Then he said something about giving that 'Low Blow' creep Stanley Whitfield's job as thanks for tipping him off! I hate freakin' reporters!"

__

"Me? I did this? Buttercup's out there fighting him because of me, and he's coming after Blossom and Bubbles, too?"

They saw his surprised look but didn't know the real reason for it. He whispered, "I had no idea…I never really thought about it…" He was suddenly appalled. Stanley was right. It HAD all been a game to him. Santiago was right, too. The panic outside, and in here, was his doing.

__

"These poor kids!" He asked, "Can I help you get things calmed down here?"

"Thanks, Doctor, but maybe you should be with Bubbles." Fuller said. "Her last BP was awful." 

__

"They must get her readings at their station. That means they'll send someone…"

When the end came. He didn't want to be there anymore when it happened. He should just leave, right now. But that little girl had no one, because of him. He would play doctor for a few more minutes.


	14. Ch 14

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -14-**

Buttercup lay on her back on top of a concrete ledge, gasping for air, listening to the slowing rush of water passing by below her. The swirling tidal wave had carried her over a mile from where she'd gone into the sewer, and had smashed her against the cement walls, ceiling and floor of the massive rectangular-shaped underground system. All of the girls had been forced to hold their breath under water in the past and could do it for far longer than the average person. She'd always wondered if needing less oxygen was another of their powers.

But she wasn't thinking of that just now, nor of why the water had suddenly stopped, saving her from almost certain drowning, for she'd reached the limits of her endurance. What she didn't know was that someone at the Townsville Waterworks was on the ball. Due to the oft-damaged infrastructure of the city, nearly the entire water system had been fitted during replacements with electronically-controlled gates placed every so far in the piping, and at every major valve, such as those that fed large institutions. This allowed for minimal flooding. The fail-safe system also included every fire hydrant in the city, so within minutes of Mojo's attacks on them, the gates closed and the street emptied of water within five minutes. Mojo, seeing the gushing from the hydrants slow to a trickle and the broken water main stop sending out its geyser, immediately figured it out.

__

"Accursed city planners are not as imbecilic as they look! Buttercup has probably survived and is this very second planning a counter-attack! I must not allow that! But how…?"

What could he do to delay her and prolong the battle, which was what he really wanted. Tire her out. The other two were going nowhere so he could drag this out for as long as it took. A smile curled his simian lips as a thought occurred to him. He drawled into his microphone, "Oh, Charles! Oh Stanley!"

The voice stunned everyone, both in the crowd and watching the television, who had been waiting anxiously for some sign of their hero's survival. Stanley's head whipped upward; at the same moment, millions of viewers didn't see Wagner's eyes going wide.

Mojo spoke in that somewhat condescending, taunting voice. "While we are waiting to see if Buttercup has had enough to drink, perhaps your viewers would enjoy some refreshment themselves, or a bit of 'relief' from all the excitement. You may take a three-minute commercial break."

Watching commercials was the last thing he expected anyone to do and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, his evil, green face grinning with glee.

* * * * * * *

Her hair was plastered to the sides of her head, her soaked tights clung to her legs and water squished in her shoes, but her training let her put all that aside. She stood in the middle of the empty sewer, trying to get her bearings. A small stream of sewage flowed in the V-shaped trough of the floor. Trickles of water ran out of the large outlet pipes, built into the walls, that fed the sewer. _"Things are back to normal…but where the heck am I? Let's see…" _ This branch ran straight in both directions as far as she could see, but up ahead to her left, she saw an intersection that also ran both ways, forming a large X. She noticed above her that every hundred feet or so, rays of light came in at an angle from the street drains. _"Must be about three…I need to get back there before he gets inside!" _She gave her hearing a boost and heard honking horns but no Mojo, no sirens. She had no idea what part of the city she was in. It would be simple to just push a manhole cover out, fly up and see where she was, but just because she couldn't HEAR Mojo didn't mean he wasn't hovering out there, waiting to pick her off. She needed to be careful. _"What would Blossom do?" _ She flew down to the intersection, looked both ways, and took a right. Then she stopped, and smiled. _"Hey, wait a minute! Those pipes go up into buildings! I can just fly up one and bust out and Mojo'll never see me! And if somebody flushes the toilet…oh, well, I'm used to takin' peoples crap."_

She flew up the nearest pipe at the same moment Mojo began to give his little announcement.

* * * * * * *

Whitfield scratched his head. _"Buttercup is still down there so why doesn't he go after her by flushing her out with smoke bombs or something? Why a commercial break now? FLUSH?!! Oh, no!"_

A hundred thousand-plus Townsvillians had similar thoughts, but unfortunately, not until after they'd hit the handle. Buttercup, already up the pipe that served a high-rise apartment building with four hundred units, heard Mojo as his voice was carried through the underground tunnel, but she was too preoccupied to catch on. The sudden rumbling told her she was in trouble and she turned to fly back. Too late. The torrent of water caught her from behind and blew her out of the pipe at the bottom and into the opposite wall. It stunned her and she fell into the river of foulness that had already formed, as every outlet pipe along the system's length filled the tunnel.

As she shut her eyes tight and held her breath, fighting to escape the filthy current, she knew what had happened. _"That dirty! He did this on purpose! I'm gonna get him back for this if it's the last thing I ever do!"_

Her rage blinded her to everything else and sheswam down to the bottom, feeling her hands touch the concrete. She did a swimmer's turn and pushed off with her feet. She willed herself to open her eyes against the sewage so that she could see where she was going. She broke free, once more gasping, but she didn't care what she was drenched with. That septic-cleaning truck that had exploded its contents on her had been worse than this. Her plan had formed in her head. It meant possibly showing herself to Mojo, but it wouldn't matter. He would have to react to her, this time. She flew up to a manhole and pulled the cover straight down, then punched the opening until it was twice its original size. She looked out quick and saw a massive traffic jam, but the landmarks in the area told her she was a good mile away from the hospital and on the far side of downtown. She could weave in and out amongst the buildings until she got close enough to attack. She zipped along the tunnel, pulling out manhole covers until she had a stack of about thirty, all that she felt she could comfortably maneuver with and still do what she wanted.

Her head began to pound and it hurt. She guessed it to be from stress. She was also starting to feel a little queasy. _"Must be the smell. I just wish my head didn't hurt so much, but it's nothing compared to the headache that creep is gonna have!"_

Her pile of heavy metal 'frisbees' all collected, she retraced her route back to the opening she'd made and flew out, to the cheers of stuck motorists. With her free hand, she waved them silent.

"Shhhh, everybody! Quiet!" Then she began her serpentine flight toward her target.

* * * * * * *

Jennifer Keane turned the corner at the nurse's station with the security guard at her right shoulder and saw three figures, one in green and two in blue, standing a short distance down the corridor. The guard told her Bubbles' room number, and that it was halfway down on the right, then gave her the go-ahead and turned, going back in the direction they had come from. As she passed the three, a nurse popped out of a room to her right and into one across the hall, and she heard a soothing voice talking to a whimpering child. She heard small cries, loud ones, and muttered oaths from a parent or two about that 'darn idiot reporter', and it got her own anger roiling again. What he had done to these poor children, in addition to everything else. 

She cautiously stepped into the room, not wanting to startle anyone who might be in there, but all she saw was her student lying silently on the bed. She approached and stood next to the bed, gazing down at the sleeping, angelic face. Aside from the golden hair that was usually in pigtails but was now fanned out on the pillow, she looked the same as always. Keane saw the sheet covering Bubbles rise slightly and sink again after she'd mentally counted to seven. Shocked, her eyes went to the monitor, which beeped softly and confirmed what she had just done herself. Only nine breaths a minute. Only 19 heartbeats. 

__

"But she looks so peaceful! Why isn't she laboring?"

She had witnessed the deaths of loved ones before. She knew she should be thankful it was not otherwise. But she couldn't be thankful. It all just seemed so unreal. Images flashed through her mind of the sweetly innocent child whose name fit her personality so perfectly. Always smiling, giggling, laughing. Always so open and giving of herself; a friend to everyone. In spite of her amazing abilities and the responsibility that came with them, so comfortable with who she was. She was a joy to teach and have in her classroom, even if she could be a bit clumsy at times. Keane smiled at the picture in her head of Bubbles with paste all over both hands, her face, her dress, in her hair, and the little pieces of construction paper that had somehow gotten stuck to it; all the while totally and happily oblivious to the mess she'd made of herself. It was unbelievable to her that all of that could be taken so swiftly. Just yesterday, everyone had thought it was just the flu, until her collapse on the playground…

Keane blinked her eyes against the horrid memory. She gently took Bubbles' left hand in hers. The coldness of it shocked her but she managed to not drop it. 

"Bubbles, dear, it's me, Ms. Keane."

She didn't expect a response and didn't get one. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to reassure the child that her sisters and the professor would be back any minute but none of that was true. She just wanted to comfort the child in some way, but from what Sara had told her, Bubbles probably was past hearing now. But there was still the chance she could hear _something_. Words wouldn't mean much to her or give her comfort, but hearing one of her favorite school songs might.

"Would you like me to sing you a song? OK, then…"

* * * * * * *

Since Timothy Johns had given his short statement on the hospital's front steps and gone back to his office, he'd been on the phone nearly every second. He needed information and others wanted information from him. The press would have to wait, but the hospital's chief administrator was very unhappy about what he'd heard. He himself had not seen the mini-press conference that LeBeau had barged in on and was going by second-hand reports, and would remain glued to the set in his well-appointed office the remainder of that day, fielding calls and making them. Johns did his best to calm the man down, knowing that the hospital's switchboard operators were far more harried than his boss or he himself. He also tried to get him to see that the current problem was the fault of a very clever reporter, not a poorly-trained security staff. He knew those people had their hands full, too, and didn't need to be scolded right now. And mostly, he had to convince the chief that the hospital's medical staff was doing its best and that given the extreme suddenness and unusual nature of the girls' illness, keeping up to date on their conditions was going to be nearly impossible. The appearance of Mojo Jojo on the scene had only made things worse. But finally, he was able to turn his boss loose so he could free up his phone.

He had called surgery. A problem with Blossom, forcing a delay. He'd called 2nd floor pediatrics. Bubbles' condition was steadily deteriorating and Buttercup was with her. Then he'd seen for himself on his own office TV, Mojo's arrival and the green streak that soon appeared; even before his phone rang and he was informed of the situation. He'd immediately pushed the button on his desk phone that would transfer calls to his cell phone, pocketed the said portable, and headed for the surgery department. Professor Utonium needed to know what was happening and he knew that no one in the operating rooms would hear or feel a thing from the outside. Due to the numerous monster attacks, every O.R. had been built with shock-and-sound-absorbing materials.

While on the way, he called Stanley Whitfield and was briefly updated on the situation outside, including Mojo's threat against the two girls inside. He'd checked with surgery again. Nothing new, they were still waiting for the beta-blocker to work. Another call to pediatrics. Amid the panic in the ward, which he knew was occurring all over the building, came word of Bubbles' latest numbers. The Professor needed to be informed of this, also. 

As he neared the surgery department, it struck him that the next few moments would be torture on the man once he learned what was happening. What would he himself do? Rush to be with his one child in her final moments? Or, knowing that nothing could be done, stay with the other, who was fighting for her life? Or, upon hearing what LeBeau had caused, head outside in a horrified, mind-numbed rage in a futile attempt to try to protect his one remaining child who could still fight?

He felt a brief sensation of shame at his relief that he didn't have to choose. But the circumstances, in spite of that relief, were still no better, for anyone. Could Buttercup really fight that God-forsaken creature all alone? God help them all if she couldn't.

* * * * * * *

The professor and Dr. Waldman were still in the observation room and during the delay had been discussing what to do next. Waldman had gotten a page from the lab. The biopsy results showed that the cells were not cancerous, and he had passed that information on to Vora. They now had no idea what they were dealing with, and only the surgery would give them a clue. They were totally unaware of what had transpired since they first entered the room. Not Matt LeBeau's actions or anything that followed. 

"Five more minutes should be long enough, I think." Dr. Vora said, looking at the wall clock. She and the one nurse who had helped her to her feet had needed to scrub again and change into fresh clothes, but not before removing the shrinking/enlarging gun from the O.R. It was unknown if its fall to the floor had damaged it, and they didn't want to risk it being in there should the beta-blocker not work, and another electrical charge strike it. The gun lay near the Professor's feet, under the small countertop that held the monitor they were seated in front of.

The professor could see Blossom's gauze-wrapped head. "If you're certain it's not cancer, Doctor, what do you think it is?"

Waldman really had no clue but the earlier speculation that what was happening had an outside cause seemed to him the most likely.

"It is possible that they picked up a spore from some unknown organism on one of their trips into space. Or from one of the monsters…"

"Or Mojo could have given them a timed-release agent." the professor said, half to himself. "…but that doesn't sound like him."

"We aren't going to be able to know anything until we go in." Waldman said. Below them, Vora and her team were checking Blossom's vitals and making final preparations to get that sample.

* * * * * * *

Johns was just outside the door that read, "Observation area O.R. # 3. He walked through and began climbing the stairs to the soundproofed room. His phone rang. It was Whitfield. The hospital was getting another high-profile patient. The mayor, while watching the television coverage, had suffered an apparent heart attack and was being airlifted in at that moment.

"Oh, great!" he said to the empty stairway. He took the remaining steps two at a time and upon reaching the door to the room itself, pushed the button for the intercom, on the wall next to the door. "Adam, I need to talk to the professor."

A buzz, and he opened the door and rushed inside. There was no time for pleasantries.

"Professor," he began as the two men turned in their chairs. "Tim Johns, I'm the Director of Information for Townsville General. There is something I have to tell you."

The professor leaped to his feet. "Bubbles?" he cried in shock. Waldman clasped one arm, ready to get him under control. 

"No. Mojo Jojo is outside. Professor, please, just listen and try to remain calm. Getting upset is going to help nobody."

The professor sat. "What's he done? Found out about Bubbles and decided to take advantage?"

"Yes, but there's more. I gave a statement to the media earlier, it was done live, informing them of Bubbles' condition. We felt the public deserved to know so they could gather quietly outside, and they would have done that. But some damn reporter I never heard of broke in and basically told the whole world about Blossom and Buttercup, too. Mojo saw it."

"Reporters." Waldman said in disgust.

"Yes. Mojo, by his own admission, decided to act instead of waiting for more news about Bubbles. Professor, Buttercup is out there right now, fighting him."

  
  


* * * * * * *

__

Mojo had kept an eye on the helicopters that hovered nearby. He knew they were the press, with the exception of the police chopper that had landed on the hospital roof a short time ago. He had used his telescope to see that the passenger inside was the Powerpuffs' schoolteacher and decided to let it land. It confirmed that they were in bad shape. Then he'd seen Bellum on the roof, trading places with Keane.

__

"Ah! She is on her way back to City Hall to manage the crisis started by me! I will let her, for when I have taken charge, I can use a good assistant."

Then a short time later he had seen the white helicopter with the six-sided blue cross and the caduceus on the side and ignored it, knowing it held a seriously ill patient but not knowing that it was the mayor.

He now scanned the area for a sign of the Powerpuff Girl and saw nothing. _"I will give her two minutes to show. After that, I will challenge her to show herself, with the threat of destroying the hospital. If she does not, it would appear that she has not survived, which will be unfortunate. I desire to see her face at the moment of her demise, begging Mojo for mercy!"_

During all this time, he'd been keeping up a steady dialogue that everyone on the ground could hear. Mostly insults mixed in with what they could expect from their new ruler after he had subjugated them. He eyed the clock on the console. Thirty seconds remained of the two minutes. Suddenly, warning beeps sounded and lights flashed as sensors picked up an incoming attack. She was back.

__

"Ah, good! It is much better this way!"

  
  


* * * * * * *

She had woven her way, keeping low until there were no buildings left to dodge. She found two that she could hover between, giving her an excellent angle to fire her discs from. In spite of the throbbing in her skull that the spinning made worse, she launched herself into her tornado move, at the same time, heating the bottom manhole cover in the stack with her lasers to near-melting point. She timed the release of each to direct them at the evil primate's craft. The first few she could see were going to be a bit off-target but that helped her to pinpoint the others. She got ten of them off in just over twenty seconds.

Mojo saw the red-hot discs coming. Unsure what they were, he set his laser for its highest power level and the computer automatically determined their trajectory, since they were far enough out to allow time for that. The beams exploded them into shrapnel, which caused significant damage to the office towers in the vicinity. Onlookers ducked for cover as they heard Mojo's loud laughter.

"Buttercup! This is no time for a game of frisbee! Your sisters are counting on you! Bwahahahaaa!!!"

Buttercup had used the ten merely as a diversionary tactic and their explosions gave her cover to move in. She parked herself just around the corner of the fortieth floor of a tower, then came out and rushed Mojo. This time she didn't bother to heat them up; that had only been to make them appear to be missiles as their heat was picked up on Mojo's sensors. Now, she fired them rapidly, zing-zing-zing, in a wider, trapping pattern. The exploding first wave confused the sensors and they never picked up the second wave until the discs broke through the debris.

"GAHHHH!!" He was in trouble and he knew it. The auto-search-and-fire program would stop the second he gave the command to his collision-avoidance system, but Buttercup had spread them wide enough to pin him in. He couldn't avoid all of them if he ran and if he didn't stop firing he couldn't move at all. He could fly forward but couldn't change course that quickly. He hit the switch that gave the firing control back to him. He'd have to do it manually._ "Curses! I must try to hit the nearest ones!"_

Hit the ones coming right at him and if he stayed where he was, the others would pass by harmlessly. The thrusters held him in place as he fired. He took out three discs but one got through and hit the plastishield and cracked it. Another hit the shield and took a chunk away along with it. Two more hit one of the legs almost simultaneously. The duranium buckled but held; but the concussion spun the craft out of its stationary attitude and into the path of another, which caught the spinning craft directly in one of the exhaust ports and it flew up inside before the heat burst it into shards of metal that tore the guts out of that engine. Mojo felt the shudder that told him he was doomed, even before his console lit up with flashing warning lights and alarms screamed. There were only two things to do, and he had to move fast. He unfastened the hand-held version of his improved laser cannon from the floor next to his seat and hit the eject button.

On the ground, the covers that missed their target and the shrapnel from the few that Mojo had hit caused more damage, but no one seemed to care. "It's gonna blow!" dozens of voices yelled at once, and many in the crowd broke and ran for cover. Whitfield and most of the rest could see that it was far enough away that the hospital was in no danger and stayed put; enthralled by what they were witnessing. 

__

"She's doing it! She's beating him!"

He saw the choppers in the vicinity clearing out, though. He hoped the KZIX crew was getting all of this. That made him wonder again where the hell LeBeau was, but not for long. Mojo's robot seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds, spinning lazily with smoke and flame coming from it, then a brilliant flash caused everyone to cover their eyes against it. Pieces of the arms, legs and body went in all directions from the massive fireball, setting fire to several office and apartment buildings when they hit. The closest anything came to the hospital was a section of one arm that crashed through a storefront a block away. The bulk of the debris simply fell straight down, into the park across the wide avenue, where it erupted into another fireball. Fortunately, any of the crowd who had been in the park had already cleared out. Seeing they were saved, a thunderous cheer went up, and everyone looked up to see Mojo's parachute drifting slowly toward the ground. They expected Buttercup to snatch him from the sky any second and give him the pummeling he so richly deserved, but she was nowhere to be seen.

She had held a few lids back, moving in for the kill. It was one perfectly aimed throw that had finished off the robot, and upon releasing it, she set herself to keep one eye on the escaping Mojo and the other on the robot, in case she saw any serious danger from the falling debris. But suddenly her head seemed to explode in pain and a wave of nausea came over her. She hurried to the roof of the nearest building, where she fell to her knees and was promptly sick to her stomach.

__

"NO! Not now! I don't have time for this!"

A second wave hit her. When her small body stopped spasming, she fell to one side and over onto her back, sucking in mouthfuls of air. She could hear the crackling of flames from the fires and the sirens of the fire crews that were off to battle them. She heard the loud cheer go up. But she had to find out where Mojo was, knowing he'd probably escaped and, having had his robot destroyed, would waste no more time with her but head directly inside the hospital.

Groaning, she stood weakly and floated from the roof. There he was, nearly to the ground. Sucking it up despite the throbbing inside her skull, she went after him. Another huge cheer, even louder than before, greeted her as the crowd spotted their hero. Her hands went to the sides of her head. _"Ahh! Please don't do that!"_

"All right, Mojerk! Game's over!"

__

"Watch yerself, kid. He's prob'ly got somethin' hidin' under that cape!"


	15. Ch 15

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -15-**

LeBeau thanked Fuller and Sanchez and they thanked him, then he turned and walked down the hall toward Bubbles' room. He heard muffled explosions from outside the hospital and their televised counterparts coming from a few of the rooms. Then he heard some cheering, from the rooms on this ward, the rest of the hospital and outside, and it seemed to make the whole building tremble slightly. Everyone was seeing Mojo's robot blow up. Perhaps Buttercup was winning, but it made him feel no better. As he neared the room, he stopped. Coming from inside was a woman's voice, softly singing a children's song in a sweet soprano. He wondered who it could be. He saw her only from the back and didn't recognize the woman, but he was glad someone was there with the girl. He stood in the doorway, listening to her finish the song, then he saw her bow her head and heard her sob softly. She must have sensed someone was there, for her head turned suddenly and she looked at him. 

"Oh!" She was holding one of Bubbles' hands and her other one went to her mouth, showing her surprise.

"I'm sorry, don't let me interrupt you. I can come back in a few minutes."

"Oh, no!" She turned and gently lowered the child's hand.

"Bubbles, honey, I'll be right back. I just want to talk to the doctor for a second."

She came out and quietly pulled the door almost shut. Her eyes were full of tears and she apologized for it, reaching into her purse for a tissue to dab at them. He waved aside her apology.

She put out her hand and he took it. "I'm Jennifer Keane, I'm the girls' kindergarten teacher."

Everyone knew they were kindergarteners, but somehow hearing her say it shook him. How could that possibly be, kindergarteners doing what they did? They'd always seemed older to him, but then, he'd never actually spoken to any of them. He didn't know who any of them were, knew really nothing about them, having never bothered to look at them as anything other than newsmakers. And this woman standing in front of him probably spent more time with them than anyone except their father. To her, they were just kids, real flesh-and-blood people who she had a responsibility to. And she was losing one of them. How many more people would be personally touched by that loss? That was something he'd never considered. He was suddenly sick of this whole charade, sick of himself, and wanted to get out of there. But the face looking at him was looking for him to tell her something, anything, that might offer her a glimmer of hope. 

"I'm Doctor Ferrara, I'm with Blossom's surgical team."

"Oh! How is she?"

__

"Careful…" She wanted hope but he didn't really know how Blossom was. "It's going to be several hours yet, Ms. Keane, before we know anything, but we're very hopeful. She's in surgery now and I'm on standby in case they need me."

That last was a lie but if she believed it, that he was an extra and not needed right now, she might see that as a good sign. The rest was essentially true.

"I just stopped by to check…" He left the thought unfinished as he glanced at the door. Her expression asked the question and he shook his head no.

"No one's sorrier than I am." he said, and that WAS true, now.

After a few seconds of silently looking at each other, she said, "Do you know what really gets me mad about all of this? That family, after everything they've been through over the years, deserves to be together right now and they're not! I suppose with Blossom's situation the professor has to be with her, but Buttercup needs to be with Bubbles and she isn't because of that no good scumbag reporter!" She trembled with rage, but quickly added a somewhat embarrassed, "Pardon my French."

"It's all right." he told her. "There are a lot of people who feel the same way, and they're right."

"Oh, why do they have to be like that? Why can't they see that real people get hurt by what they do, but no, instead of just telling us what happens AFTER it happens, they have to MAKE the news and they don't care who gets in the way!" She touched his arm, chagrined. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take it out on you!"

"It's all right." he said again. "But it's tough to care about something you never bother to see. Maybe when he sees what he's done, he'll wake up, not that that changes anything." He thought for a second. "Tell me, Ms. Keane. Would Bubbles forgive him?"

"Bubbles? That dear, sweet child would forgive anyone if she believes they really mean it. Buttercup, that's another story."

That, he didn't want to find out. Her reputation was well-known. He asked, "Ms. Keane, what would YOU say to that guy if he was here right now?"

She blinked. "I…I don't think I could say anything, I'm so angry! I'd probably give him a body opening he wasn't born with!"

She was instantly shocked by what she'd just said and covered her mouth. LeBeau grinned slightly and said, "Well, at least he'd be in the right place." 

She laughed in spite of herself and touched his arm again. "Oh, thank you, doctor, I feel so much better! I know Blossom is in good hands here."

"I'm just going to check on her, then I need to get back to surgery." he told her, and stepped inside and closed the door.

He pulled a chair up to the bed and sat. The numbers on the monitor had dropped slightly more except for the blood pressure, which, he knew, wasn't accurate. The BP was taken at regular intervals, every half-hour or hour, and the reading wouldn't change again for a while.

He knew Bubbles wouldn't be able to absolve him; that would have to be taken as a matter of faith based on what her teacher had just told him about her. He doubted that she would even hear him, but it was something he had to do to live with himself.

"Bubbles, my name's Matt LeBeau. I'm not really that Doctor Ferrara I've been telling everyone I am. I'm that reporter guy that everybody's so mad at, and they should be, because I did something really bad. If you've been listening, then you know that Mojo came down here because of something I said and now Buttercup is out there instead of being here with you. I'm real sorry about that. Nobody knows what's going to happen now but none of it would have happened if it wasn't for me. I'm just asking you to forgive me if you can. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I'm not really a bad guy, I'm just someone who wanted to be famous and I broke some rules to try to make that happen. One was 'be careful what you wish for because you just might get it', and now it looks like I am gonna be famous, but not in a good way. The other rule I broke was an even bigger one and I know you know this one. It's 'do unto others as you would have them do unto you' and I didn't because I never stopped to think about what might happen from some of the things I did. I know the doctors are working really hard to get your sister Blossom better again and Buttercup I think is taking care of Mojo, so I hope they'll be OK. I have to apologize to them, too, and to a lot of other people. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what I did and that I'm sorry I never got to know you."

He stood up. "I have to go now and take whatever punishment I've got coming. Ms. Keane is coming in again to be with you."

He wiped his eyes with a sleeve of the green scrubs and went to the door. He stepped out. "You can go in, Ms. Keane."

* * * * * * *

Professor Utonium practically flew from his chair. "What?! My Buttercup is out there all by herself?!"

He dove for the weapon on the floor and picked it up, checking the battery level. It was still good. He had blood in his eye as he strode for the door. Waldman and Johns tried to block his path.

"Professor, please, there isn't anything you can do!" Waldman pleaded with him. 

"Oh yeah? I can turn that filthy ape into a speck of dust with this!"

Thankfully the intercom to the operating room had been turned off and the surgical team couldn't hear any of the exchange. Waldman and Johns looked at each other. 

"That's right, you can, can't you?" Waldman grinned slightly. "You could also make Buttercup grow. That will definitely swing the odds in her favor."

"Then I'll deal with that reporter." the professor said grimly, his eyes glowing. He hated to leave Blossom but he couldn't do anything for her right now. "Take care of her, Doctor." he said, though Vora couldn't hear him. 

"C'mon, Professor, I'll show you to the roof!" Johns cried and they headed for the door.

* * * * * * *

Buttercup was right, Mojo did have something under his cape, and when he pulled the laser cannon out and fired off several blasts from it, she moved. But the crafty genius had taken her own tactic and used it against her, framing her with beams. She moved directly into the path of one and it sent her into the base of the building she'd just flown down from. A shower of smashed bricks fell on her and she tried to wave away the choking dust as she crawled out of the debris. 

__

"Sheesh! I shoulda known he'd try that!" A bomb seemed to go off in her head and she collapsed on the sidewalk. It was so bad she curled up in the fetal position._"Oh, my head! Why is this happening now? They said I wouldn't get sick for a couple weeks! I'm sicker than Blossom is!"_

Just when they all thought she had the upper hand, the crowd went silent as they saw her blown out of the sky. Mojo landed, his magnified voice laughing and taunting them once more through a speaker built into the wide belt he was wearing. He unfastened the parachute and pushed a button on the same belt. Two small rockets popped out on either side of the belt and he blasted off in the direction of their stunned hero. As he jetted away, they heard him laugh, "This is the Swiss Army knife of belts! I never leave home without it! Mohohohohhahahaha!!!" 

Now, the crowd wouldn't be able to tell what was happening. Only the TV viewers would, and they'd get a bird's eye close up of it from the aerial cameras. The helicopters pulled in as tight as they could and there were countless gasps as the city's sole remaining hero could be seen lying there, barely moving. No one knew what had happened, and the cameras couldn't show Mojo's shocked expression, either.

__

"What? Surely one blast could not defeat her? I had better make certain!"

As he lowered toward her, he gave her another shot from the cannon and it hit her full in the side, pinning her to the sidewalk. He kept the beam on her a full fifteen seconds, listening to her scream. _"That ought to be enough!" _he thought, seeing her remaining motionless.

"So, Powerpuff!" he taunted. "You thought you had me there, but instead it is Mojo who has you instead!"

__

"Ohhhhhh…sick…can't get up…unnhh!" She lifted her head a few inches but let it drop. The pain inside was so bad she never felt it hitting the concrete.

He couldn't believe she wasn't getting up. He walked up to her and nudged her with his foot. No movement. He kicked her in the side. She felt it and swore to herself but didn't give him the satisfaction of crying out. Finally, he reached down with one of his long, strong arms and flipped her over onto her back. She cried out in agony from the pain of firing her eyebeams at him. It was a futile gesture that only stunned Mojo, as they were weak and fired blindly. 

"Muahahaha! You are totally helpless before my greatness! I could finish you right now, but if you were to beg for mercy, perhaps I will let you all be destroyed together!"

"Never!" she managed to spit out. "You'll never get that out of me!"

He blasted her again, this time right in the chest. _"_Unnnhhhhh!!!" _ "Oh, God, it hurts! But…he's only playing with me…that's what he wants…can't think…why'm I so sick…wasn't s'posed to happen…it's like the cancer's tryin' to finish me 'fore he does…"_

It seemed to her as if the stress she'd been put through had accelerated the condition to kill her as rapidly as possible. But not fast enough. The pain in her head and the throwing up were as bad as Bubbles had been only yesterday, when she still should have had weeks to live yet. Suddenly she wanted Mojo to get it over with.

"Say it, Powerpuff! Beg me to not shoot you or I will!"

"Go ahead, you creep…shoot me…I always wanted to go out like this anyway, not in some stinkin' hospital…"

__

"She cannot mean that! She is only bluffing! She will cave, like anyone would when facing their ultimate doom!" He raised the weapon and pointed it in her face, his evil grin growing.

__

"C'mon…hurry up and get it over…I just can't believe we're goin' out like this…ain't right…Professor, don't blame yourself for makin' us …nobody knew it'd end up like this."

Her eyes shot open and she had to close them against the sudden light that made the pain excruciating. She struggled to remember something someone had said…was it the professor?

__

"…it was me, girls. Without knowing it, I must have planted the seeds of your destruction within you when I created you..."

That was it! _"Yeah, Professor…you sure planted somethin'…I just hope it finishes growin' in time…"_ Something else began to grow in her head, the seeds of a plan…

"Yeeessss?" Mojo snarled; seeing her eyes open had made him expect she was about to give him what he wanted. She didn't disappoint him.

__

"I hate doing this…I better be right." She opened her eyes again. "Oh…please Mojo…don't kill me…I don' wanna die…"

* * * * * * *

LeBeau held the door open for Ms. Keane. She thanked him and gave him a small, sad smile and he turned to leave. They heard what sounded like a rush of air come from inside, a gasping sound. He froze, not knowing what to do. Instinct told him to run.

__

"You coward! She thinks you're a doctor so act like one!"

It wasn't 'his' department and the nurses when they came running could do what needed to be done. He looked at Keane, then went inside. She followed. Bubbles' mouth was open, just letting out another gasp. The monitor said it all. Respiration 5, heart rate nearly unchanged at 18. She appeared to be struggling now and sucked in a breath, held it for more than ten seconds, then let it out before taking in another. He moved around to the side of the bed where the monitor was and motioned for Keane to come up. She did and picked up the child's right hand and held it. He knew many people were afraid to touch the dead and dying, but an image flashed in his head of Buttercup, clinging to her sister in an attempt to keep the Grim Reaper away. How could he be afraid? He picked up her other hand. Fuller and a different nurse burst into the room a second later. There wasn't anything they could do but it was their floor.

"Should I leave?" Ms. Keane asked.

"No." Fuller told her. LeBeau wondered if Professor Utonium had been called, certain that he had been as soon as these readings had alerted them down at the station. He only hoped the man got here in time.

* * * * * * *

Johns led the professor down the steps. Dr. Waldman was not far behind. He had taken a moment to quietly alert Vora to the situation. The two stepped out into the main hall, with Waldman standing in the open doorway, wishing the professor luck. Before he could close the door, Johns' phone went off.

"Johns."

"Doctor, pediatric oncology. It's Bubbles. If you can get hold of her father, you better hurry!"

Johns looked at him. "Professor, it's Bubbles. I'll stay here." The professor and Bubbles' treating physician broke into a run. He watched them until they were out of sight, then rested his forehead against the wall for a moment. He shook it, sighed and looked to the heavens before climbing the stairs to the observation room.

* * * * * * *

Bubbles pulled in a breath and held it. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. Then the spiking heart rhythm on the monitor flattened out and the beeping became a steady whine. Her mouth opened and the air emptied from her lungs. The other indicators zeroed out except for the BP, which would remain forever frozen at the final reading it had taken. LeBeau watched Keane's face taking on a horrified expression. Fuller was counting the time, twenty-five seconds. The little girl's chest failed to rise, her mouth fixed and open. Forty-five seconds. Afterwards, he wouldn't be able to remember exactly what he'd done in that room, but he gently laid the small hand next to the stuffed doll at her side and came around the bed. The other nurse took Bubbles' other hand from Keane and laid it down, and the teacher placed both her hands to her mouth and began to emit a low wail. The nurse led her to a chair and sat her down. He came around behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Fuller still had one eye on her watch. A minute-fifteen. As difficult as it was, it was her duty.

"I'm calling it. Time of death, three-sixteen P.M." She stepped over to the monitor and began shutting everything off. Keane buried her face in her hands and began to sob loudly. LeBeau gripped her right shoulder and bent to touch her hand. The other nurse stood ready to act if necessary; sometimes grieving relatives and friends needed to be removed. She herself was grieving and thought how very wrong it was that none of the girl's family was there with her. 

Lebeau told her quietly, "Ms. Keane, I am very sorry. I really have to go now." She looked up, surprised. "Can someone stay with her?" he asked.

"Yes, Doctor, of course." Fuller said. "Thank you."

He looked at all of them, then left the room. He ran down the hall toward the rear, taking the same stairwell down and finding the exit Buttercup had blown through wide open, a guard standing outside looking toward the front of the hospital. Someone had silenced the broken alarm. He took off toward the rear parking lot, wanting to get as far away from what he had caused as he could. He'd see it on the news soon enough. He tore off the scrubs and threw them into a dumpster, then briskly walked away, heading east. Just keep walking. Go home. Come back tomorrow to get his car, then head down to the station to clean out his desk. No thoughts about what to do with the rest of his life.


	16. Ch 16

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -16-**

Vora gasped and invoked the name of the Hindu deity Vishnu. What she and the team saw when she uncovered the opened skull shocked them all. Johns, watching from the room above, couldn't see but knew something was wrong. It had taken him a minute to adjust to the shock of seeing Blossom's body the size of an adult and her head, covered like it was, too huge to comprehend.

What they were looking at was a mass of ugly, dying brain tissue. Whatever was growing in there, in the brain stem and probably at all the other sites that had registered on Blossom's scan, was choking the gray matter. It was purpling right in front of their eyes. In the short time of the delay, this was absolutely impossible. But what shocked them the most was that the massive, rapid growth had caused such incredible intracranial pressure that the child's brain was being pushed out of her skull through the opening. 

"What's wrong?" Johns asked. 

Vora looked at her assistants. No one had seen anything like it and there was nothing any of them knew to do. It was hopeless. Nothing could save the child now and it was Vora's fear that they had somehow been the cause of what they were seeing. Based on those earlier scans, it appeared as though Blossom was still some time away from the critical stage. Not anymore. She doubted her patient would come out of the anesthesia, having already slipped into the final coma. An EEG would probably confirm it.

"Everything, Doctor." she replied. "There is nothing to do but close her back up before we are unable to do even that."

"Damn! Damn it!" He pounded on the console. 

"There is one thing I would like to do." Vora said. "I would like to go ahead and take a few small samples of tissue. We may yet learn something."

"That's your department, Doctor." His phone rang again. He switched off the intercom to below.

"Johns."

"Doctor, this is pediatric oncology again. We're sorry, Doctor, we lost her."

"Was Utonium with her?"

"No."

"Was _anyone_ with her?"

"Her teacher." It went without saying that some staff would be there, so the nurse saw no need to mention the others. LeBeau's cover was still safe.

"I see. Thank you." Johns hung up. At least Bubbles hadn't been alone. This was the worst day in the city's history. But he had a job to do. No need to distract the surgical team with this news. He switched the intercom on again. "Doctor, I'm going to inform Professor Utonium. Thank you all for your efforts."

"We are sorry, Doctor." she replied, speaking for all of them.

__

"Yeah. Me too." He stood and walked out.

Vora looked around the table at her team members. "Well, let's get to work."

* * * * * * *

Keane had composed herself and gone out to stand in the hall to wait for Professor Utonium. She hadn't been able to bring herself to look back, wanting to remember the joy instead. Her mind was numb and she didn't know what to say to the professor. She heard a sound and looked up to see him and another man hurrying down the hall. He was holding some sort of rifle. That shocked her and she wondered what it was for.

They had taken the stairs to the second floor but it had still taken too long. The look on her face told him and he stopped running. He slumped against the wall. _"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you." _ Waldman tried to assist him but he waved the help away. "No, I'm all right." He didn't have time to grieve. He must remain calm and deal with things. He still had two other daughters to think of. The grieving could come later. He walked up to the teacher, dropped the gun and held his arms out. She fell into them. 

"Oh, Professor!" She shook again with her sobbing.

"I'm so glad you were with her, Ms. Keane." He couldn't give in to his grief, but he could vent his anger. "Buttercup should have been with her sister, if not for that sonuva…"

The two nurses coming out of the room stopped him. Waldman was still Bubbles' treating physician and needed to speak to them. It would be his responsibility to sign the death certificate. He placed a comforting hand briefly on the professor's shoulder and went to stand with the nurses. 

The professor never saw the perplexed looks on the nurses' faces nor Waldman's frown as they talked, and he didn't see them walking over towards where he stood comforting Ms. Keane, who continued to sob. "Who else was with you, Ms. Keane?" he asked her. 

She stepped back, rubbing her eyes. "Those two nurses and that Dr. Ferrara from Blossom's team of doctors. He was wonderful!"

"Dr. Ferrara?" Waldman asked.

"Yes, from surgery." Fuller said. "He said they didn't need him yet and came up here to see Bubbles."

"There isn't any Dr. Ferrara in surgery." Waldman said, his frown deepening. "There's a nurse named Peter Ferrara in that department, but he's not with Blossom's team. In fact, I think I heard Dr. Vora mention that he was off today!"

"Oh no!" Fuller gasped. "It was that freakin' reporter!"

"What?!" the professor shouted, his facing turning purple. "He was in there with her? Why, I'll…I'll!" He just then noticed the gun on the floor and bent to pick it up.

Waldman grabbed the man again, stopping him but thinking, _"And after you're through with him…"_

Keane was aghast. "Oh my God! He was right here! He seemed so nice!"

"Don't be mad at him! He said he was sorry!"

Five heads spun toward the open door to see Bubbles floating there in her hospital gown, clutching Octi.

* * * * * * *

Stanley Whitfield and Maria Santiago had realized at the same time that with Mojo's destroying machine destroyed, so was gone his threat to the hospital. Whitfield sent upline to CNC word that they could resume normal coverage. Without benefit of seeing what was happening, Stanley couldn't add much so Charles Wagner and his merry gang of 'experts' took charge. Soon, they were adding their own brand of commentary to the happenings below. The audio came in poorly. Mojo's taunting could be heard but not the responses from the downed Powerpuff, and the whole world believed they were seeing the end of her. They had seen his heartless blasting of the laser directly into the helpless girl's chest and now waited for the final blow to be delivered.

They heard him say, "Hah! I knew you would beg for mercy! Of course you do not want to die, but you will, eventually. Together, with both of your accursed sisters! Now, get up, Buttercup!"

"I…I can't!" _"Oh…man…I can't see now! This is just like what happened to Bubbles! If I'm wrong, we're all goners anyway but if I'm right, I might have a little time yet."_

"I said, get up or I will force you to get up!"

__

"Tears…yeah, tears oughta work." "I can't, Mojo! I can't move an' I…I'm blind!"

"Oh, so you cannot see!" This shocked the audience. "Well then, I suppose I will have to assist you."

__

"Yeah…that's it…pick me up. Nice and rough, too…"

Holding the laser on her with one hand, he reached down and yanked her off the ground and held her up above him. "You see?" he cackled to the world. "You see how easily I manhandle one of your precious protectors?"

He gave her a violent shake, which made her smile inwardly in spite of how awful she felt. 

"What do you say to that, Powerpuff?"

She answered by throwing up in his face.

__

"I said I'd get even!"

* * * * * * *

"BUBBLES?!!!"

Keane passed out on the spot. The professor caught her and let her slump gently to the floor, then jumped for joy as the little girl flew into his arms. The nurses paled and Waldman stood, open-mouthed. "Wha-wha-wha."

"Oh, honey, I can't believe it! Are you OK? We need to get you into bed, make sure you're all right, Doctor, help me…"

Waldman still couldn't move, nor could the nurses.

"Professor, I'm OK, really, but there's no time!" Bubbles cried excitedly. "I'm sorry I scared everybody but right now I gotta go help Buttercup!"

"Buttercup! Yes! Bubbles, are you sure you feel OK?" He was in such shock he didn't know what he was doing or what he was looking at. Waldman stepped forward with a stethoscope he had removed from the stunned Fuller and gave a listen, then looked quickly into her eyes.

"Bubbles, go help your sister. We'll check you over later."

"Professor, I need somethin' to wear, I can't go out like this!" She didn't have anything on under the gown.

He was still too shocked to think clearly, but he remembered the things they had brought. "Buttercup packed some clothes…"

"In the corner!" Fuller shouted, coming out of her trance and pointing into the room. "In there!"

Bubbles dashed for the bag and all anyone saw was a white streak turning into a blue one and she was with them again in three seconds. "Buttercup brought my clothes! She knew!" 

With that, she flew straight for the window in her room. The professor yelled "Wait!", scooped up the gun from the floor and ran after her but she was already gone. He looked out the large hole and saw her turning. 

"What, Professor?"

"Hold still!" He aimed and fired, and instantly she was transformed into the size of Blossom at the moment. He squeezed the trigger again and she stood over ten feet tall. 

She looked down at herself. "Whee! I'm like Dynamo!"

"Go take care of that monkey and get back here!" he told her with a smile.

"Okay!" She was gone in a flash. He turned to see Waldman and Fuller next to him, staring out the hole. The other nurse was helping Ms. Keane to sit up.

"Doctor, what just happened?" Fuller said slowly. 

"I have no idea other than we got that miracle we were hoping for. Professor, they were telling me just before Bubbles came out of nowhere, that her color wasn't right for someone who was dead…"

"She wasn't turning bluish like she should have been. And the whole time…those numbers…they were impossible." Fuller added.

"As crazy as it may sound, Doctor, this is starting to make some sense." the professor said. "Blossom's reaction to the scalpel was like her body protecting itself. I think it's possible that Bubbles' systems were shutting down for her own protection, and they just turned themselves back on again when she was ready."

"Yes…" Waldman said slowly, trying to figure it out himself. "Do you think it's possible that what we thought was killing them was really their brains regenerating themselves?"

"Yes, that's what I'm thinking. Buttercup and Blossom will have to go through what Bubbles did, but they're going to be fine. Oh my God…Blossom! BLOSSOM!"

He took off, out of the room and down the hall, almost running Keane and the nurse over. 

* * * * * * *

Bubbles knew she was going to be seen but she didn't want Mojo to see her, so she went straight to the roof and to the rear of the hospital, where she would be less likely to be seen from the street. She scanned the entire area in front of the hospital and cranked up her hearing. It didn't take long. Mojo was bellowing loudly. When she spotted them, she flew into a rage at what she saw. She hovered closer to the front, laying out flat as if she were flying, ready to take off. She needed to be quick, for the moment she was spotted, the crowd would yell. She wanted Mojo to have no advance warning.

What Bubbles had seen was this. Mojo was furious. Doused in vomit, he lifted Buttercup and bodyslammed her onto the pavement. It drove the breath out of her and she gasped trying to get air into her lungs. Mojo leveled the laser at her head again.

"You will pay for that insult, Powerpuff! No one does that to me and gets away with it! Now prepare to be the first of you to leave this world. You may welcome your sisters when they get to whatever accursed place it is I am sending you!"

__

"Now!" Bubbles said to herself and launched. She looked down and held up one hand to her mouth and waved the other, much the way Buttercup had earlier, to tell them to keep quiet. Much to her surprise, it worked. Their initial shock at seeing her had given her signal a few extra seconds to take hold in their minds.

Buttercup heard something that sounded very familiar and opened her eyes. Though she was blind, her combined senses told her that what she'd been praying for had happened. _"Bubbles! I was right!"_

Mojo saw her eyes opening. "What last words do you have for me, Powerpuff? Say them now!"

"C-code blue…"

"What? I cannot hear you!" He lowered his head slightly to hear better, wary of a trick and another facefull. His laser was at the highest setting and she could not survive one more hit from it. His finger itched with anticipation.

"Code…b-blue…" she repeated.

His anger and focus made him oblivious to his surroundings. "Muhahaha! I know what that means! It is a term for someone experiencing a medical emergency, but you are beyond that point!" 

"Maybe, but you aren't!"

"Wha?" He spun to see Bubbles' massive right hand mere feet from his face. "Yaaaahhhhh! Nooooooo!!!!!"

It connected, sending the villain back into the building Buttercup had crashed into. He fell into his own pile of rubble and dust.

Bubbles looked at her hand. "Buttercup, what's this stuff all over Mojo? It looks like…Buttercup, you didn't?"

All she had strength for was a small grin and to open her eyes a tiny bit in her sister's direction. "Yeah…I did…"

"Eeeeewwwwww!!!!" Bubbles cried, bending to wipe her hand on the ground. She crouched over Buttercup. "Buttercup, you brought my dress! You knew, but how?"

"Later…get Mojo…" was all she could whisper.

"Oh yeah!" He was crawling out of the bricks and reaching for his laser cannon a few feet away. She stood up and three strides got her there. "Oh no you don't!" she said as she stepped on it. She picked it up and snapped it in half like it was a cheap toy, then threw the pieces on his head, cracking his turban. 

He saw her nasty grin as she reached for him. "No, don't hit me!", he begged as he cowered beneath the towering 'Puff.

She found a clean spot on his tunic and yanked him off the ground. "I'm not gonna TOUCH you, Mojo!" she snickered as he groaned, trying to wriggle free from her grip. "You need a bath!"

Buttercup smiled and relaxed, comforted by the crowd's cheering as the creeping blackness took her.

* * * * * * *

Dr. Waldman, realizing the same thing the professor had and also knowing the only way to contact the surgical team was through Johns, raced down the hall, stopping at the nurse's station where they could get in touch with Johns.

Johns answered his phone again.

"Tim, it's Adam. Are you still in the room?"

"No. I'm on my way to find Utonium. Adam, there's nothing that can be done for Blossom and they're just closing her up."

"What? You mean they're NOT operating? Tim, that's great! Listen, you aren't going to believe this." He related to Johns the amazing thing he'd just been witness to.

Though stunned and not quite believing it, Johns quickly realized what that meant as far as Blossom was concerned. He told Waldman of Vora's intent to get a tissue sample. "Adam, I've got to get back there!"

* * * * * * *

Fifteen officers, seeing what had just happened, charged on foot to the location. They stared at Bubbles as she stood over them. She held out the captured villain and they backed away, holding their noses. She giggled, then pointed toward a fire department pumper she'd spotted a thousand and something feet away. They grinned up at her and collared Mojo. As they cuffed him and dragged him away, he mumbled stupidly; more in shock at seeing Bubbles alive and in her present state than from any physical damage he'd suffered. The cops looked back at her, staring at the huge girl. "Don't worrry!" she giggled. "Professor's gonna change me back! Thanks for takin' care of Mojo, but I gotta get Buttercup to the doctor! Bye!"

She gently knelt and lifted her unconscious sister from where she lay on the street, then floated off the ground toward the hospital. She didn't know why Buttercup smelled so bad but she didn't care. It was Mojo's fault, probably.

"Don't worry, Buttercup, you're gonna be OK. Buttercup? Buttercup, can you hear me? I hope so. I heard you. It was real weird, Buttercup. When I was still awake and you guys came in, I really thought I was gonna die, but Professor told me I was gonna be OK and after I fell asleep somethin' kept tellin' me that everything was gonna be all right. I felt really bad that I couldn't wake up so you wouldn't be sad no more and so Ms. Keane wouldn't have cried. But she sang me a really pretty song and that reporter everybody's mad at came in and said he was sorry, so don't you be mad at him, 'kay? I was mad at him too when I found out he made Mojo come down here and I couldn't come out and help you, but everything's OK now. But Buttercup, what really made me happy was when you got on the bed with me and talked to me. There was stuff I forgot all about and it made me feel like I really mean something to you. It made me feel really special. You an' Blossom are both special to me, Buttercup, but I'm gonna wait to tell you when you're both awake, so I can know that you're hearin' me."

Bubbles knew she couldn't go inside the hospital like she was, not until someone shrank her back to her normal size. She flew to the emergency department entrance, oblivious to the shouts and waving directed at them. CNC had been having a field day with it. No one could believe what they'd seen and the 'experts' were falling all over themselves trying to come up with an explanation for it. She didn't know and wouldn't have cared anyway. All she hoped was that someone would be there to take care of her sister. Inside, they had seen what was happening on TV and they were all ready for Buttercup. A gurney was there waiting and Bubbles carefully handed her sister over to the amazed medics, but not before whispering, "You're gonna be okay, Buttercup. You were there for me and I'll be right there when you wake up. I love you."

She told the medics, "Sorry she's so messy. Can she have a bath?" They smiled and nodded as they whisked Buttercup away. She watched them until she couldn't see them anymore, then she flew around to the front, looking for someone to help her. 

"Bubbles!" came thousands of shouts, and they cheered her. She saw the huge pile of flowers and stuffed animals in front of the large poster of herself. "Hey, is all that for us? Gee, thanks! But that's a lot of stuff!" _We can share it with all the kids in the hospital!" _she thought_. "And maybe all the other hospitals in Townsville, too. Gee, people are awful nice to us!"_

"Thanks, everybody, but I really wanna get back to my right size so I can be with my sisters. Can somebody tell the professor to get the gun and shoot me?"

Millions of shocked viewers and most everyone on the ground had no idea what she was talking about. But the folks in Townsville figured it out pretty quick. They were used to the professor and his inventions. Whitfield pulled out his phone to get Bubbles some help.

* * * * * * *

No sooner had Johns finished with Waldman, he saw Professor Utonium come around a corner, charging at him. He turned and ran back toward the O.R., calling out over his shoulder, "Dr. Waldman called me, Professor!"

He heard a crash and looked behind him to see the professor closer to him and a young orderly and his equipment on the floor, having stepped out of a room without looking.

"Sorry!" the professor shouted, never looking back. "We have to stop them!" he cried, catching up with Johns. "What's happening to her is meant to happen! Bubbles is awake and she's fine!"

Johns slowed and said, "I know!", but the professor never broke stride and bolted past him. Johns took off to catch up. He couldn't let the man just burst into the operating room. "Professor, wait! Let me handle this!" Together they turned the final corner and saw three people in green scrubs standing in the hall outside O.R. # 3. They ran up. It was Dr. Vora and two of her team. Her look was grave.

"No! Oh, no!"

"I am sorry." Vora said, approaching him and touching his arm. "There is nothing we can do." She turned to Johns. "I was not even able to get a tissue sample. The beta-blocker did not work."

"What?!" the professor asked. "You mean you weren't able to operate at all?"

"Yes. When we tried a second time, the same thing happened. She will not let us touch her."

She was stunned when the two men looked happily excited and clasped each other's arms, as if they were celebrating. Utonium slumped with relief to a sitting position against the wall. "Oh, Doctor. I thought we were too late!"

Vora and the other two were completely confused and exchanged frowns with one another. "Why? What has happened?"

"Dr. Vora, I have no idea." Johns said. "All I know is that we're seeing a miracle here."

His phone rang again. He didn't bother to say his name. "Yeah."

"Tim? It's Stan. Do you know where the professor is? Bubbles is out here and she has a little…er…big…problem."

"He's right here." Johns handed the phone over to the surprised man. He whispered to Vora and the other two, "Adam and the professor will have to explain it, but Bubbles woke up and is outside the hospital right now helping Buttercup fight Mojo." Seeing their shock, he added, "Oh yeah, you don't know about that…it's a long story. But what they're telling me is that Blossom is going to be all right…"

"That is not possible, after what I just saw in there." Vora told him.

"I don't know…Adam and the professor know more than I do." he repeated.

The professor stood up and handed Johns the phone. He had relayed instructions to Bubbles after finding out some information from the reporter.

"Dr. Vora, it's their bodies healing and protecting themselves. We weren't supposed to do a thing. How is Blossom right now?"

She nodded toward the room. "They are running an EEG now. After the second shock, her vital signs dropped rapidly."

"Yes. I just found out that Buttercup is in emergency. Bubbles said it seems just like what happened to her. Apparently, the stress that she and Blossom have been put through triggered their systems to speed up the process."

Vora and her team members looked at one another again. "Go scrub up, I'll be right in." They left through a door.

"That explains the tremendous growth and pressure. It explains some other things too, but we can talk about that later. Professor, that pressure is forcing her brain out through the opening. I need to close her up as soon as possible."

She left to scrub herself. "Unbelievable." the professor said to Johns, running a hand through his hair. "I have to get back to Bubbles' room. I told her to meet me there."

"Just a second, Professor." Johns pushed a number on the phone, for the emergency department.

"Yes, Dr. Johns. Is Buttercup there? Great! Let me talk to him!" He looked up. "Waldman's there with her. Must've been watching TV."

He went back to the phone. "Adam? Yeah, everything seems to be OK here. OK, hang on."

He handed over the phone again. "You two know more than I do."

The professor took it. "Hello, Doctor."

"Professor, there's nothing we can do for her down here. She's slipped into a coma and the time frame seems to be around where we were with Bubbles this morning. I want to get another scan of her to be sure, then we'll just monitor her condition. I also want to start some tests on Bubbles."

"So do I. I want to be sure she's really all right. After I get her back to her proper size, I'll send her over. After Blossom comes out of surgery, I'd like for them all to be together. Is there some way to do that?"

"Yeah, Professor, I think there is. Let me talk to Tim."

Johns was thinking the same thing. The kids had been through hell. He took the phone back, but first told the professor, "I'll see if the VIP room is available."


	17. Ch 17

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -17-**

At 4:15, Johns came out on the front steps of the hospital. He had alerted Whitfield that he'd make a short statement, and everyone waited anxiously. During the last forty-five minutes or so, TV viewers had been subjected to endless speculation over what had occurred. They had also been treated to the amazing sight of Bubbles, standing outside of the hospital's east side rear wing, being struck by a beam from inside and shrinking back to her normal size. She had turned, smiled and waved; then had flown in through the broken window.

The restless crowd, which had swelled again with the danger over, strained to see the doctor as he approached the podium. CNC had worked to get their own equipment set up, having gotten a backup truck through the traffic, and now Stanley was broadcasting only on KZIX, which suited him just fine.

Johns spoke off the cuff; no prepared statement. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have a brief announcement. Further details will be provided at a full press conference later today, we estimate sometime between 8 and 9 P.M. I will not take any questions at this time." He cleared his throat. "As you know, we've witnessed a miracle today. Bubbles is having some tests done to be on the safe side, but she appears to be perfectly normal. What you all saw was the result of a device we intended to use in the treatment of the girls' condition, but as you witnessed, it had a different and happy application. Blossom will be out of surgery shortly and she is expected to make a full recovery. Buttercup was not severely injured in the fight. She is resting comfortably and we expect her to be just fine, too."

They expected both girls to be awake by the time the press conference began, and the doctors would be able to explain fully what had happened. There was no need to tell the crowd that Blossom and Buttercup were going to 'die' for several minutes.

"I have one more bit of good news. The mayor did not have a heart attack."

There were actually a few scattered boos amongst the cheering, but they weren't picked up on the audio.

"It seems that in all the excitement of watching the fight, he ate a whole jar of spicy pickles. He's been treated for indigestion and will be sent home soon."

The laughter was louder than the cheers.

* * * * * * *

It was going to be a long wait until the conference. Gradually, the crowd would begin to disperse and head home. Emergency crews and police went about the task of putting the damaged downtown area back together. Volunteers collected all of the items left at Bubbles' 'shrine' and began sorting out what could be given to children and what had to be thrown out. Hospital security combed the place in search of the intruder who'd turned it upside down, but there was no sign of him.

With the excitement over, Whitfield began to think more about LeBeau himself. Where the hell had he gone? Whitfield had called LeBeau's cell phone three times and for some odd reason gotten LeBeau's recorded voice. He'd called the station several times but he wasn't there. The station tried his home phone and got his answering machine. It was just as well. Everyone was excoriating the kid anyway, especially the idiots at CNC, the hypocrites. Earlier, he'd been their hero for breaking the story but now that it wasn't true, they were falling all over each other to crucify the kid. They didn't seem to get it that most of the egg they wore on their faces they'd broken themselves. He figured that LeBeau probably expected to be fired and was drowning his sorrows in some bar, watching the finish to what he'd started. Ironically, LeBeau in fact knew nothing. He had never looked back to witness Bubbles' amazing appearance and rescue of her sister.

He lived in an apartment complex on the eastern edge of Townsville. He'd walked for forty-five minutes until he came to the major road leading out of town, that just happened to pass two blocks from where he lived. It would take at least another hour. He was suddenly exhausted. He looked around and saw the traffic was backed up heading into downtown. Why would people still want to go there? One solitary car came the other way and for the heck of it, he put out his thumb. It stopped. It was rather beat up.

"Where to, buddy?"

He noticed the back seat half-full of empty beer cans and an open beer between the driver's legs. He was too tired to care. He hopped in. "I live about four miles out, just off this road, if you're going that far."

"Hell, yeah. It's right on the way to Citysville. That's where I'm from. Great place, not like this stinkin' town. Want a brew?" The driver, a rough-looking guy in a dirty T-shirt, nodded toward the seat and the one can remaining in the plastic rings.

"No, thanks. Citysville, huh? Have to check it out. I'm thinking of leaving Townsville myself."

"Smart move."

By the time he was dropped off, he'd heard from the man just why he disliked Townsville and the three girls who'd once caused his hometown such a big headache. LeBeau was shocked. The man wouldn't be saying those things if he knew what had taken place.

"Are you aware of what's happened to those kids today?" Lebeau asked as the man stopped where he'd told him to drop him off.

"Sure I'm aware. Nothin' new. Everybody makes a big deal out of 'em, but they always come out smellin' like a rose. All that doom an' gloom, and then out pops that blonde one, just like I expected."

"What?"

"You don't know? Where've YOU been? She busts out the window, like none of 'em know how to use that thing called a door, then POOF! She turns into a giant or somethin' and finishes off that monkey, like always. You didn't see it?"

LeBeau bolted from the car.

"You're welcome! Idiot!" the guy shouted after him, then drove off. _"The wife can find her own way home from her sister's. I ain't never comin' back here!"_

LeBeau ran the two blocks to his apartment and put Channel Five on. There was Stanley, saying that the hospital spokesman would be out any minute. He watched Johns' statement, then flipped over to CNC and saw what he'd missed. He'd just walked out on the biggest story he'd ever be likely to see in his career. _"Career? WHAT career? Serves you right, too!"_

He saw the light on his answering machine flashing and remembered he'd turned his phone off. Stanley had probably been trying to reach him. His unanswered cell phone calls were transferred to this one if not answered by the fifth ring. He wound it back to the start and pushed the button. Sure enough, there were three calls from Whitfield, each sounding angrier than the first. There were another two from the station manager. Well, that sealed it. If what he'd done wasn't enough to get him fired, dereliction of duty certainly would. He'd worry about it tomorrow.

There was another call. "This is Ken Miller from _'The Cutting Edge'_ (3). I like your style, kid. The big boys are chewing you up pretty good, but I'd be happy to talk to you anytime. Citysville could use someone with your talent." There was a phone number to call.

He'd never heard of Miller or his show. He didn't know what was meant by 'chewing you up' but he found out. For the rest of the afternoon into the evening, he stayed glued to his set while he began to pack up his belongings, as anxious as anyone to find out about the girls, and as glad as anyone that they would be all right. That was all he cared about. He didn't care what they were all saying about him because they were right.


	18. Ch 18

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -18-**

The VIP room was a very nice place. Carpeting on the floor. Wallpaper and real paintings, not cheap prints. Fresh flowers. Huge bathroom. The room itself was very big, though some furniture had to be moved out to fit three beds. The huge-screen TV stayed, though, and Ms. Keane and Sara Bellum sat on the couch talking quietly at just after 7 P.M. as it ran again the amazing footage they had watched several times. It was as if the network had made an endless loop of the sequences, killing time until they had new information. The sound was turned down as they chatted. Bubbles was napping, back in bed in a fresh gown, an IV line running into her left arm. Tests had shown she was dehydrated and they were giving her fluids. Buttercup, and Blossom, whose head was bandaged and had long since been shrunk to her correct size, were both well into their deep sleep and a nurse would come in periodically to check on them. Their readings were steadily dropping, just as Bubbles' had. Professor Utonium was with the two doctors and Tim Johns, trying to make sense of everything in preparation for the press' questions. They would all be here in the room shortly, to witness for themselves what Keane had seen.

Bellum and Keane had spoken to the doctors, which added to what they already knew. What the girls heard apparently had an effect on things. Sara had noticed that Bubbles seemed to get worse after hearing that Mojo was attacking, and though Keane didn't know what LeBeau had told her, it was right after he came out that Bubbles' body had shut down. That's what the doctors were calling it, 'shutdown'. So they were careful to speak very softly.

"I wonder what he said to her." Keane said. "I still can't believe it. He seemed so nice. I really thought he was a doctor."

"So did I, Jen. The guy's in the wrong business. He'd make a good spy."

"Bubbles said he apologized to her, and right before he went in there, he asked me if I thought she would forgive him. Maybe he's not as bad as they're making him out to be."

"They're ones to talk, aren't they? I'm glad I wasn't watching it earlier. Do you know that they were actually calling it a 'deathwatch'?"

Keane gasped. "That's terrible! How could they do something like that? Stanley wouldn't do something like that!"

"No. Stanley can be a bit pompous at times, but he's one of us. He cares about Townsville. The national press cares about only one thing, and it's not people."

They sat up sharply as they heard the sound of a blood pressure cuff inflating. It was Buttercup's. When the new number flashed on the monitor, Keane gasped again. The final number from Bubbles' monitor had seared itself onto her memory and this one matched it.

"Isn't it too soon?"

They called for the nurse.

* * * * * * *

The professor had calmed their fears. "It's just like her. She's always in a hurry."

Everyone was gathered around her bedside. Bubbles, who they had woken up, held her sister's right hand, floating between the bed and Blossom's so she could hold Blossom's hand too. Professor Utonium sat in a chair, holding his daughter's other hand. The three doctors, their teacher and their friend Sara stood watching. 

"Don't be scared, Buttercup." Bubbles told her. "I'm here."

At 7:22, Buttercup let out her final breath. Everyone watched nervously for no one had witnessed Bubbles' awakening. The whine from the monitor when it flatlined was annoying but they left it alone. After almost five minutes, it started beeping. The heart rhythms looked normal and the rate quickly climbed to acceptable levels, along with her breathing. There was nothing at all dramatic about it; it was like she was just turning herself on again. That in itself was dramatic. The Powerpuff Girls were indeed like no one else on earth. 

She opened her eyes and turned her head to grin at her sister. "Me, scared? Who're you kiddin'?"

* * * * * * *

At 8:05, Blossom woke up. They were the most concerned about her, given the surgery and all, but other than complaining that her head was sore, she seemed as alert as her sisters. After allowing them a few minutes to be with each other, Blossom and Buttercup were whisked away to have another scan done as a precaution. Bubbles' had already shown what they suspected anyway. No sign of any abnormalities whatsoever. By 9:15 they were all back in the room, in their beds, eating sandwiches and watching TV with the friends who had stood by them. They were about to find out along with the rest of the world just what had happened to them.

Down in the jam-packed media room, Tim Johns sat at a long table at the front, where the podium had been. The hospital logo appeared on the wall behind him. To his left sat Dr. Waldman; to his right Dr. Vora. Professor Utonium was to the right of her. Each had a glass in front of them and a water pitcher sat on the table. Lying on the table to the professor's right was the gun. Reporters from every TV and radio outlet in town, plus CNC; were present. Their crews had spent the rest of the day setting up and wires ran all over the floor. The cameras were set up to the sides, while the seats were taken by the reporters. In addition, Townsville's several newspapers and dozens from other major cities were represented.

It started late, at 9:25. Johns introduced those at the table with him, then started off with a short statement. The girls watched intently.

"The girls are all awake and alert and resting comfortably. If nothing changes, Bubbles and Buttercup will be released in the morning. Blossom may get to go home tomorrow, too, but her crimefighting may be curtailed for a few days."

"Awwwww!!!" Blossom griped. "My head isn't THAT sore!"

"Now I'll turn you over to Dr. Waldman."

On the two screens on the wall behind them, four sets of CAT scans appeared, two on each. Waldman used a pointer, indicating from the left. "This scan was taken of Bubbles last night. You can see the growths here. At that time we took a biopsy, which later came back negative. The second scan was from this morning, just before I diagnosed her with inoperable brain cancer, which we know isn't true. This third scan was from early this afternoon, around the same time we first suspected that the other girls had the same condition. Finally, this one was taken around four-thirty today."

Even to a layman they were self-explanatory. Whatever was in those first three progressively-worse scans was gone now.

"Wow, the inside of my head looked like THAT? Yuck!" Bubbles made a face.

"Shhhh!" said Blossom.

Up went three more scans. On the left screen was Bubbles' first next to Blossom's first, on the right, Buttercup's first.

"Okay. Now on the left here, is Blossom's from early this afternoon, right after she first experienced headaches similar to Bubbles' from about two weeks ago. You can see the difference between it and Bubbles' from last evening. Over here, Buttercup's from this afternoon. As you can see, just a very tiny spot getting started here at the brain stem. So what happened between then and now? Why the sudden change? I'll let Professor Utonium explain."

"Yay, Professor!" they all cried and clapped. Sara and Ms. Keane smiled at each other and clapped too.

He looked a bit uncomfortable and drank a glass of water. "Ummm…well…first, I want to apologize to everyone for all the excitement and trouble. It seems the girls would have gotten over this if I had just done nothing and kept them at home. I'm sure they'd tell you the same thing."

"Huh? No way! We couldn't get a TV like that in our room!" Buttercup exclaimed. Blossom told her to be quiet.

"And I want to thank the doctors here and all of the staff for everything they've done for us. This was hard on everybody. Now, as for what happened…the girls, to put it simply, grew entire new brains."

"We did not!" they shouted in unison. "Did we?"

The reaction around the world was nearly the same: Total disbelief. In the media room it was very similar. Some reporters started to shout questions, a few others yelled, "You're crazy!" But Johns asked them all for silence and the professor went on.

"I know, it does sound far-fetched, but there's no other way to explain it. Something in their make-up, I call it their self-defense system, triggered these growths. Let's face it, folks, they are subjected to forces none of the rest of us could tolerate. Something in their DNA, perhaps a result of the Chemical X, is programmed to see that they are always functioning at peak levels. This might even happen again in the future."

Knowing they were watching, he quickly added, "Don't worry, Girls, if it does, we'll know how to handle it so you won't have to go through a day like this again. I suspect the timing of it was spaced out so that two of the girls would be healthy while the third was healing. Bubbles did have a day when she seemed almost back to normal, before things changed for the worse. But the other two girls didn't have that. It looks like the stress of the fight Buttercup was in and Blossom's surgery convinced their systems that they were in imminent danger and that accelerated the whole thing." 

"I must concur with that." Vora spoke up. "For two reasons. First, I was prevented from operating on Blossom by an electric shock when I attempted to pierce the outer membrane. That is unheard of. Then, after we took steps to prevent that from happening again, in that short period of time the change I saw was so dramatic that I cannot reach any other conclusion."

"And all of this is consistent with everything else." Waldman interjected. "The symptoms of illness that Bubbles experienced were caused by the increased pressure inside the cranium."

"Hey, what about me? I was sick, too!" Buttercup complained.

"Yeah, wait'll you hear about that, Blossom!" Bubbles giggled.

"Heh, I guess it wasn't so bad." Buttercup grinned.

Waldman continued. "Their systems gradually shut down as the old parts of the brain were killed off and the tissue absorbed, and the new ones took over. What looked to us like death, which lasted about five minutes, apparently was the completed new brain checking out all the connections to the body's systems before turning everything back on."

"Whoa." Blossom said. "You know, I felt that shock thing, twice. It really hurt! But, I still had this feeling that everything was gonna be all right. I can't explain it any better than that."

"Yeah, that's what you said, Bubbles." Buttercup agreed. "Maybe I didn't have that feeling because you told me about it before I fell asleep, so I already knew. All I remember is people talking."

They returned their attention to the TV and listened. Everything was explained, including the role of the weapon. A brief demonstration was given by the professor, who grew the water pitcher, then shrunk it. Finally, the questions started, and as was typical, most of them had already been answered by the prior explanation and it was just that reporter wanting to be 'on record' for their respective station or paper. One very good question was asked, concerning something that hadn't been covered, and it was asked by Whitfield.

"Will there be any effect on the girls' memories?"

Keane and Bellum flinched at that; it hadn't occurred to them, seeing the girls acting quite normally after their unique experience. But the girls just looked at each other and shrugged. 

"I don't have any trouble remembering stuff." Blossom said, and the other two agreed with her, but they all paid attention to Professor Utonium's reply.

"There shouldn't be. As part of the process, I believe all of their existing memories would be saved. Think of their brains as CD burners. They just copied everything over."

"Cool!" the girls squealed excitedly. The two adults looked at each other with small smiles, then shook their heads in amazement while watching the three little miracles. That's when they noticed Bubbles yawning. Keane stood up.

"Girls, I'd better be going now. The kids will be asking a LOT of questions tomorrow."

"Yeah. Thanks for staying with us, Ms. Keane." Blossom told her teacher. "I hope I can come to school on Monday."

"And thanks for singing to me!" Bubbles said happily.

They said good night and Keane bade Sara good night also. Her car had been delivered safely to the hospital lot by the police. Shortly after, the nurse came in and Sara told them good night with a promise to come see them the next day.

"How are you girls feeling?" the nurse asked. "You should probably be going to sleep soon."

"Sleep?" Buttercup said. "Who needs sleep? I just woke up!" 

The nurse chuckled. "Okay. I'll just turn the lights down. I'll leave the TV on for now." 

After she left, Blossom asked Bubbles to pass her the remote from the table. Reporters were still standing and asking questions. She boosted the sound level.

"Awwww!!" griped Buttercup.

"Shhhh. I want to hear some more! They didn't read our statement yet!"

"Hey yeah! I forgot about that!" Buttercup was suddenly eager to watch again. Together, they had composed a short note of thanks and Blossom had written it.

They watched. "Hey, it's that lady!" Bubbles said, pointing.

"Maria Santiago, KCMC. When will we be able to speak with the girls?"

"That will be up to them, but not until tomorrow sometime." the professor said. "Oh!" He reached for his pocket. "They gave me something to read to you, but not until we're through with all the questions."

"Professor!" they screamed. "No more questions!!"

A man stood. "Tony Pantera, Townsville Tribune. Is the hospital going to press charges against Matt LeBeau?" It was, of course, directed to Johns. Bubbles watched nervously.

"I'd like to say a few words about that. While we are certainly not happy with what went on here today, technically he broke no laws and was not trespassing on hospital property. He was asked to leave and he did, but was not told he couldn't return, so he did that, too. I suppose he felt he was just doing his job. We respect the right to freedom of the press and do not wish to infringe on it. We just wish some of you would show us and our patients the same respect."

His tone made it clear he was dressing them all down, not just LeBeau. "Any more questions?"

There were none. All the medical stuff had been covered and CNC's medical correspondents were chomping at the bit to start analyzing it.

"Professor?" Johns said. The professor stood, holding a sheet of paper. "Blossom wrote this." he smiled. "I'm just gonna read it. 'Me and my sisters want to thank all of the doctors and nurses for being so nice, and everyone in Townsville and wherever they may be watching for their kind wishes and prayers for us, and for all the flowers and toys. We also want to thank everybody who made donations for finding a cure for childhood cancer. Even though it turned out we really weren't sick. We know we're really lucky and that lots of other kids aren't so lucky, and maybe this will help some of them to get better. I hope we don't sound ungrateful, but we would like all of you to remember that there are kids who need your prayers and toys and donations all the time and not just when somebody famous gets sick. So thanks again everybody. Signed, Blossom'"

"Wow, Blossom." Buttercup deadpanned. "Only you could put a lecture in a thank-you note."

"Hey!" Blossom complained, a little hurt.

"But, she's right, Buttercup!" Bubbles said defensively.

"I know, I know! I was only kiddin'!" she smiled at her red-haired sibling. "I was thinkin' the same thing myself when I saw that pile of stuff outside. All those flowers. What a waste!"

"Yeah, Buttercup." Blossom replied. "But their hearts are in the right place. I just wish they'd think a little more."

"Hey guys?" Bubbles asked. "If it wasn't for that reporter, I would have just got better on my own and then the same thing would have happened to you later, Blossom, and then you too, Buttercup. We'd still have come out OK, but because he told everybody we had cancer when we don't, that's why all those people sent the money! So he did somethin' good, too!"

"Yeah, Bubbles, in a way, I guess he did. It just happened for the wrong reason." Blossom said. "But he was also responsible for all the damage Mojo caused."

"So what?" Buttercup shrugged. "Today, tomorrow, next week…same thing would have happened. He causes damage every time he takes a breath."

"True." Blossom giggled and turned off the set. The conference was over and now it was just some guy with M.D. after his name talking. "Hey Bubbles, what were you gonna tell me before?"

"Oh! Buttercup used a new power on him!" She and Buttercup started giggling.

"Really? What?"

"Powerpuking!" they said together, and they all laughed until tears ran out. Then Bubbles became serious for a moment.

"Hey, Buttercup? How did you know?"

"Know what, Bubbles?"

"That I was gonna be okay. You brought my clothes for me, remember?"

"Oh, that." Buttercup said. She told them what the professor had told her that morning, about fighting and not losing hope. "I didn't really think about it, Bubbles, I just grabbed 'em. And Octi." she added with a grin, and her sister smiled down at the toy next to her in bed. "And when I was down in the sewer I didn't have time to think about this, but I was wonderin' how come we can go a long time without needing a lot of air, like when we go into space or under water. The nurses kept sayin' about how it was impossible that you could go on like you were, Bubbles, but that's why."

Blossom was watching and listening intently; this was all news to her. "Wow, Buttercup, that really makes sense, 'specially after what the doctors and the professor said."

"Yeah, Blossom, but all that stuff was just in the back of my mind and it didn't make sense until now. I didn't really know anything, it was just a lucky guess. Remember what the professor said, that it was his fault?"

Blossom thought for a few seconds. "Yeah! It was just before they took me in!" She glanced at her blue-eyed sister, sadly. "It was awful, Bubbles. Professor was blaming himself for what happened to us."

Bubbles reacted with her typical horrified look, imagining the pain the professor must have felt; but Buttercup quickly calmed her. "It's OK, Bubbles, he was right! When I was layin' there waitin' for Mojo to finish me, I remembered what he said, and I just kinda knew! Like I said, it was a lucky guess, and lucky for me that you showed up when you did, sis. I didn't have much left."

"Yes, girls," Blossom told them, "we are lucky. All of us."

They spent the next few hours just quietly talking about what the day was like for each of them. Her sisters sympathized with her over her lost hair and thought it was great what she did, but when Blossom suggested they do the same as a gesture of solidarity, they reminded her that she'd not been sick like they had been.

"Believe me, Blossom, I'd rather be bald than go through that again!" Bubbles told her.

Even after the nurse came in, and later the professor, who kissed them all goodnight before telling them to go to sleep, they chatted, until finally they told each other good night. Blossom promised them that the next day she would do ALL the talking, telling them all the things she'd been putting off, that she thought she was never going to have the chance to tell.


	19. EPILOGUE

****

"Code Blue"

* * *

By I am a good fighter

Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


** -19-**

It was eleven-thirty. Whitfield anchored the eleven o'clock report but not when he was covering a big story. The conference was long over, and though the story would continue to dominate the broadcasts and printed pages for days to come, so was his day. But he was concerned about LeBeau. No one had heard from him. He still wasn't answering the phone. He thought it more likely now that someone had recognized him on the street and expressed their outrage in physical terms. He'd never seen the kid take a drink.

He decided to drive out to the youngster's apartment. If he wasn't there, then it might be time to contact the police and the area hospitals. The drive took fifteen minutes. He'd been out here once before when he'd picked up a tape of something LeBeau had gotten. Turned out to be a big story, too. When he pulled into the lot for LeBeau's building, Stanley didn't see his car. But there did seem to be a light on in the upstairs apartment. Like any good reporter, he'd check it out before assuming that the kid wasn't home. The main door to the four-unit was unlocked. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door to apartment C. He heard the unmistakable CNC jingle coming from inside. The door opened and LeBeau didn't seem surprised to see him.

"Oh, hey, Stan. Come on in. Want some coffee?"

"Yeah, I could use it." 

There was a full pot on the counter and LeBeau poured him a foam cup full, then refilled his own. They both drank it black at the station. Whitfield saw that the place was rather disorganized at the moment. Boxes sat on the table and floor with dishes, pans and food in them. Cupboard doors were open. He was obviously packing. LeBeau noticed him looking.

"Sorry about the mess. It's neater in here."

They went into the small living room. The couch had more boxes on it. CDs and DVDs, books…he could see a suitcase standing just inside the open bedroom door, and clothes on hangers on the doorknob. It was another instance of a reporter making an assumption without checking his facts, in this case, believing he was fired. It wasn't true; he and the station manager had already agreed that the kid had made a very big mistake and just needed a good talking to. Whitfield sat in an upholstered chair while LeBeau stood. Stanley looked at the TV screen; they were still discussing the press conference.

"Where's your car?"

"It's still back at the hospital. I'll get it tomorrow." Seeing the raised eyebrows, he added, "Got a ride."

"What time was this? When did you leave there?"

"I walked out of Bubbles' room at 3:18, two minutes after she died."

The veteran reporter nearly spilled his coffee. Lebeau gave a quick sketch of his activities, leaving out the conversations, up to when he got back to his apartment. "I was in a fog and didn't know what happened until I got here and saw you saying Dr. Johns was coming out."

"Everything you did to get this story and then you just walked away from it. Why?"

"You were right, Stan. It WAS a game for me. I found out it isn't. You know what else I found out?" He pointed to his answering machine; its light was still flashing. "I found out there's a demand for that, in spite of what THOSE guys have been saying." He nodded toward the TV. "Ever heard of a guy named Ken Miller?"

"From _"The Cutting Edge"_? Yeah, he produced that thing he calls a news program right here until he tried to sandbag the girls and the people of Townsville wouldn't put up with it. Cowards like him give a whole new meaning to 'yellow journalism'. He called you?"

"Three times. Got calls from tabloid types in a few other places, too."

"And?"

"And I'm going to tell them the same thing I'm going to tell you, Stan. I'm out."

"Now wait a minute. You made a mistake. You're owning up to it. Quitting isn't the answer, Matt. You fall off the bike, you get back on."

"No, Stan, I'm in the wrong business. I got into it for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to make a name for myself. I don't care about that anymore."

"You've got too much talent to waste, kid. Don't do this."

Lebeau gave Whitfield a wry smile. "A teacher told me once that a reporter is supposed to report the news, not make it."

"That teacher was right. If you'd listened to that teacher, this might not have happened."

"I did listen, Stan. I only met her just this afternoon in the hospital. Look, Stan, I might be a good investigator, but I'm a lousy reporter. I need to make things happen. That's what I mean when I say I'm in the wrong business."

Whitfield took a sip. "I see…so what are you going to do?"

"I saw some amazing things in that place today, Stan. I think I want to be a part of that. I'm going back to school."

"Well, Matt, we're going to hate to lose you, but if that's what you want. It'll take some time to get into a medical school, and Townsville University has one of the best…so why are you leaving now?" He indicated the half-packed boxes.

"Heh. You should have seen this place a couple of hours ago. When I got home I just started throwing stuff together. By the time I figured it all out…I realized what a great place Townsville is. I'm not going anywhere, Stan, I'm just putting things away. Want some more coffee?"

Whitfield stood. "Nah, I'd better get home myself. This story's going to run a few days."

On the screen was some file footage of the girls in flight, their colored streaks arcing above the Townsville skyline.

"They're amazing, aren't they?" Stanley said.

"Yeah. What's more amazing is that I never saw them for who they really are. And once you know, you'd be crazy to want to live anywhere else."

**THE END**

1 'Death of a Powerpuff Girl' by sjcobert

2 'Power Points' by sjcobert

3 'The Cutting Edge' by xeviousgt

These stories can be read at Pokey Oaks Fan Fiction Library and I highly recommend them.

Please email your comments/critiques on this story to i_am_a_good_fighter@yahoo.com 


End file.
